


Thirty-One Days in the Life

by crushondeanlikeafairy



Category: S.W.A.T. (TV 2017)
Genre: Blood, Bombing, Car Accidents, Day Off, Delirium, Dog Walking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fictober 2019, Flashback, Funny, Garrote, Gen, Gore, Gun Violence, Hospital, Hospitals, Hostage Situations, Human shield, Hurt!Street, Hurt!Tan, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Medical, Original Character(s), Pre-Series, Roller Coasters, Serious Injuries, Stabbing, Strangling, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Whumptober 2019, concussion, hurt!Chris, no beta we die like men, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2020-11-23 10:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20890535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushondeanlikeafairy/pseuds/crushondeanlikeafairy
Summary: A series of 31 one-shots combining prompts from Whumptober and Fictober.





	1. Shaky Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide which to participate in, so I ended up going for a little extra challenge and combining both Whumptober and Fictober. Most of these will probably be Street-centric, but we'll see. I might decide to branch out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Whumptober "Shaky Hands", Fictober "It will be fun. Trust me."  
Street rides a roller coaster for the first time.

Even though they worked together almost every day, the 20 David S.W.A.T. sometimes decided to spend their days off together too. This weekend, they had decided to spend their Saturday afternoon at Six Flags Magic Mountain. All six of them were there, but Hondo had come with Darryl and Deac had brought his own kids, the two old enough anyway. Deacon had taken them to the kiddie area near the front of the park, and Hondo had wandered off the opposite direction, leaving the remaining four members to blaze their own trail through the park.

“I can’t believe they brought their kids,” Luca was complaining as he led the group past the gift shops and further into the park.

“To a theme park?” Tan called up to him, rolling his eyes, “I know! How dare they?”

“You mock, but this was supposed to be a team bonding exercise.”

“That’s just what you said to get us all to agree to go,” Chris said.

“Yeah! And now they’re not here.”

Street pointed to a wooden stand on the groups’ left side, “There’s a map stand. Should I grab one?”

“Nah,” Tan waved his hand dismissively, “Luca knows the layout by heart. He comes here way too often. Besides, it’s just one big circle anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it goes up this hill and comes back around the other side. It’s literally a mountain.”

“Wait!” Luca halted, turning around to face the others, “Have you never been here?”

Luca looked so scandalized when Street shook his head that it took every ounce of will power he possessed not to laugh.

“Seriously?” Chris asked, “This is the closest theme park to home. It’s like a forty-minute drive and you’ve never come out here?”

Street shrugged, “Well, I used to live in Long Beach and that’s almost two hours. It just never seemed worth it.”

“That’d make you next door to Disneyland!” Luca exclaimed, “That makes sense.”

“Why would I go to Disneyland? I’m an adult with no kids. Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“No, you just go with friends,” Tan answered, “That’s what Luca does. Or you could borrow Deac’s kids. If you went alone, that’d be weird.”

“Wait, so you’ve never been there either? Not even as a kid?” Chris asked.

Street smiled thinly at his teammate. “Never really got the opportunity.”

“He’s a roller coaster virgin,” Luca whispered.

“A wha-”

Luca had walked away before Street could finish his sentence, walking through the crowd to the map stand and grabbing one of the tri-folded sheets of paper. He returned to the group, pressing the map proudly into Street’s hands.

“We’re gonna do this right,” he announced, “Pick a ride.”

After several minutes of shouting over each other and disrupting the flow of traffic, the group settled on heading up the hill to Tatsu. It was coincidentally Luca’s favorite ride but, when pressed, would insist that is not why he suggested it. They passed Viper on the way, but Tan insisted they skip past that one unless they all wanted their brains to be turned into soup. Finally, they reached the western-themed clearing where the entrance to the ride was held, the smell of barbeque wafting from the old-timey restaurant at the top of the hill.

“Is that a dragon?” Street asked, squinting at the sign, “Did cowboys fight dragons?”

“Probably,” Luca said dismissively, heading toward the already long line, “Hurry, let’s go.”

The wait time in line was a little over an hour and, as they inched along and got closer to the front, Street’s heart started beating fast. He could feel it pounding in his chest. He tried to distract himself with the Looney Tunes cartoons playing on television screens that been hung throughout the line. But as they got into the building itself, the screens went away and now he could see the boarding area. He watched as the other guests stepped on and the cart tilted up so each passenger was facing downward. Street could feel his hands trembling.

“Oh God,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back against the railing and reaching behind him to grip it tightly with both hands. Chris had been standing next to him, behind Luca and Tan in line, and sensed something was up. She glanced at him briefly from the corner of her eye, before turning her head completely to him and looking him up and down with that calculating gaze of hers.

“You alright?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, nodding swiftly, his eyes locked on his boots.

“You look nervous.”

Tan and Luca broke from their conversation. They regarded Street thoughtfully, before looking to Chris. The trio shared a look for a moment before realization dawned on all their faces.

“Are you scared of the roller coaster?” Luca asked.

“No!” Street answered quickly, too quickly. He realized his mistake and grimaced, “A little.”

“It makes sense,” Chris answered, “You’ve never been on one before. It’s totally normal.”

“It is strange though,” Tan said, “I totally would have taken you for the type who’d love these things.”

“He will,” Luca said, then addressing Street, “You will. I promise. It’s just first rides jitters. Once you get a taste of it, you’ll be begging to go again.”

They finally reached the front of the line and the gate opened. The others rushed forward to claim their seats, an hours worth of pent up energy urging them forward. Street hesitated in the gateway, hands holding onto the rail on either side of him. Chris was already in the third seat in the row of four, but she paused when she saw him lagging behind. Hopping back out of the seat, she came back and held out her hand.

“It will be fun. Trust me.”

Street brought his eyes up to meet hers and he decided that if he could trust her to keep him alive in the field, he could trust her with this. With some effort, he tore one of his hands from the railing. It was shaking as he reached for her, placing his hand in her open palm. When her fingers closed tightly around his, he was able to make himself pry his other hand off the railing too. He let her lead him to the car. He climbed up into the last seat on the end. The seatbelt was a bit of a struggle for a moment, but he managed to fasten it after watching Chris do it.

When the attendee came around a checked everyone’s seatbelts, the car tilted and he found himself suspended in the air. The bar coming down over their heads to lock across their shoulders and chest was holding him in place and he was gripping the handles as if his life depended on it.

The ride operator shouted, “Tastsuuuu” as the group had heard him do a dozen times by that point, and the ride took off. The track started at an incline, climbing up before the ride drops quickly. The slow ascent was nerve-wracking, but it took all of a second once the ride dropped for Street to realize he had been worried for nothing. When the first loop came up, he was screaming for joy with his friends.

After the ride came to a stop and they got out of their seats, they headed out the exit gate. He was practically bouncing as he walked beside Luca.

“That was so much fun!” he shouted, “Let’s go again!”

“Told you!” Luca smiled, poking a finger into his friend’s chest.

“On that one? No. I’m not waiting another hour,” Tan laughed, “But we can go on a new one so you can freak out again.”

“Oh, I’m not freaking out! That was the most amazing thing ever! Hey, let’s go back and try Viper!”  
  
The other three members of the group groaned, remembering the cases of whiplash they’d each received when they’d ridden it. They were all holding internal debates with themself if it was worth it to go with Street just so he’d hate it as much as they did.

“Hold that thought,” Luca exclaimed, “Photobooth! We gotta take a picture. This is a momentous occasion.”

So the four grown adults crammed themselves into the booth barely big enough for two. Tan barely got his head in, having to stand outside the booth and lean inside. Passerybys got a good chuckle with his butt sticking out from the curtain. Chris and Street had claimed the bench, Luca kneeling in the cramped space in front of them, the photo cutting off his mouth.

All in all, it was a memorable photo, Street insisting they use the Tatsu themed option for the border of the photo. Once their hard-won pictures printed, they all caved and agreed to go back to Viper. The group new they had created a monster when Street actually enjoyed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you guys can't tell, I'm that fool that knows Magic Mountain like the back of my hand XD  
But in my defense, it's only cause I worked there the last two Halloweens.


	2. Explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Whumptober "Explosion", Fictober "Just follow me, I know the area."  
20 David responds to a bomb threat at a high school.

A typical day in a S.W.A.T. unit usually came with a modicum of danger. This included the occasional bomb threat. They typically got about five a month, and today they were responding to their first one for October. A sophomore at Woodrow Wilson High School in Long Beach had locked himself in the cafeteria with a homemade pipebomb. A teacher inside had managed to get a message to the principal who then had called the police.

Patrol cars were parked as close to the building as they could get, the officers crouching behind some planters with their guns trained on the door. The front wall to the building was mostly made up of windows, a metal grid over them to prevent the kids from breaking them. The team arrived on site, Black Betty skidding to a halt as they all climbed out.

“What’s the situation?” Hondo asked one of the responding officers, “Has he said anything?”

The officer in question shook his head, “We got a name, Weston Martin. A-student, perfect GPA. Model student. We got his number and he picked up long enough to tell us he can’t take the pressure anymore, but then we lost him. All we got is that he’s got an improvised explosive and he’s bolted the doors from the inside.”

“Is there a way inside?” Deacon asked.

“We made a call for the blueprints, but it looks like the only way in is the front door and he’ll see us coming a mile away.”

Hondo moved back toward the team and they gathered in a huddle formation.

“There’s got to be a way in there without him seeing us,” Tan mused.

Street got a thoughtful look on his face, chewing on his thumbnail before finally speaking up. “I think I have an idea.”

“Whatcha got?” Hondo asked.

“There is another way in. There’s a roof-access panel and there should be a loading dock around the other side. It doesn’t lead directly in there, but I think there’s a hallway that’ll connect to the cafeteria. If we split up, we can come at him from both sides and hopefully talk him down.”

“We don’t have the blueprints. How could you know that?” Luca asked, bewildered.

“This was my high school. Well… one of them,” Street answered, “But I used to sneak out all the time, I know all the ways in and out.”

Hondo mulled over the info quickly, his hands gripping his vest, “Alright, here’s what we’ll do. Chris, do you think you could make a shot through that glass if it came down to it?”

She eyed the building carefully, examining the grid covering the window. The squares looked to be about the size of an average piece of bread.

“I think so,” she nodded, “But we don’t know what kind of detonator he has.”

“That’s why you’ll be the last resort. Don’t take the shot unless you get the signal,” Hondo explained, “Street and I are gonna find that other door, distract the kid. Hopefully, talk him down and find out more about this explosive. Deac and Luca, you guys go in the access panel. Once we figure out how he plans to detonate it, get in there with a smoke bomb. And Tan, you stay out here with Chris. Get ready to bust down those doors and evacuate the kids as soon as that smoke drops.”

“Got it, boss,” Tan nodded.

“Let’s do this. Stay liquid.”

The team broke to head to their assignments. Hondo and Street snuck around the back of the building. They came up to the loading dock, the door beside it locked. After busting it in, the pair entered the building, looking both ways down the hall.

“This way,” Street waved to the left, “Just follow me, I know the area.”

There were a few turns, but they eventually found the door into the cafeteria. Testing the lock, they found this door open. They silently entered the room, finding their target standing in about fifteen feet in front of the serving counter. He’d gathered the students and few teachers in the center where they all were kneeling. Weston was pacing back and forth across the room, waving his cell phone around. The officers could just make out a pipe bomb underneath his coat.

Street looked to Hondo for command, moving forward into the room when his boss waved him on. Hondo took cover behind the wall, rifle trained on Weston.

“Weston Martin,” Street called, causing the kid in question to jump and spin around.

“H-how did you get in here?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“I take it you’re the kind to follow the rules,” Street smiled kindly, “You don’t know about that back door?”

Weston shook his head, taking a step backward, “Don’t come any closer! Or I’ll kill everyone in this building!”

Street held up his hands in surrender, his rifle held by the strap on his vest. “Hey, I’m just here to chat. That’s all. Can we do that?”

“About what?” Weston asked, looking around wildly.

“How about why you think all these kids need to die today?”

Hondo was whispering into the radio, “The detonator is his phone. Priority one, get it away from him.”

“I-I… I don’t want them to die,” Weston stammered, “But the pressure is too much! I can’t take it anymore! And they shouldn’t have to either! This will be easier!”  
“What pressure, Weston? School?”

“School! Life!” Weston cried, “Getting good grades. Getting into a good college. I have a 4.2 and it’s still not good enough for my parents! Let alone for Stanford!”

“I get it, man,” Street placated, carefully taking a single step forward, “I know how hard you must have worked to make that happen. All the sleepless nights of studying, all the extra classes and time you’d have to put in to get a GPA better than perfect. And I know you’ve got to be pretty damn smart to build a bomb like that. But this… this is not the answer.”

“It’s the only answer!” Weston responded through gritted teeth, bringing his phone up.

“Wait!” Street called, holding a hand up. “Look at them.”

He waited until Weston turned his head to take in the dozens of faces of terrified children, their cheeks streaked with tears. Some were clinging tightly to each other.

“I know you must feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. I know that scares you. But these kids? They don’t deserve to die. You don’t want them to die. The way you feel right now, it’s not going to last forever. Life gets better and  _ you _ deserve to be around to see it.”

“It’s not going to end,” Weston sniffled, pleading for Street to understand. “I’ll never be good enough for my parents. Even if I do get into Standford, even if I graduate top of my class, there’s always going to be something else I could have done better.”

“I understand,” Street said placatingly, keeping his voice low and calm. He dared to inch one step further. “I know what that’s like. That feeling that you’ll never be good enough for them. They always find some way you’ve failed them, no matter how hard you try to make them proud. I think every kid feels that way to some extent. But their opinion of you isn’t always going to matter. It doesn’t matter now. You are an extraordinary person, capable of amazing things. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

Weston stared at Street for a minute, tears pouring down his face. His eyes were red and puffy. He looked a mess. What worried Street the most though was the kid’s shaking hands.

“How about you put your phone down, Weston? We can figure this out together. Okay?”

“I… I can’t. I’m sorry,” Weston whispered, raising his phone again.

Luca and Deacon took that as their cue, a smoke bomb flying out from behind the counter. Before Weston could react, Street surged forward and wrestled the phone from the kid’s hands. A banging sound echoed through the cafeteria as Tan did his part and broke through the cafeteria door. He and Chris led the patrol officers in getting the kids out of there. Deacon and Luca slid over the counter and, after seeing the phone secure, helped usher the closest hostage out. There was so much commotion that neither Hondo or Street noticed Weston reaching inside his coat.

“I’m sorry,” Weston said, an eery calm setting over him, “It’s too late for me.”

Street realized too late that Weston had a secondary trigger, moving toward the kid in a hopeless attempt to disarm the bomb, or at least get Weston away from it.

“Street!” Hondo called as the beeping on the bomb sped up, tackling his teammate to get distance between him and the bomb. He was just in time as the device went off, sending the pair flying over the serving counter and into the kitchen. Street slammed into the shelving unit, knocking cans off as he hit the floor on his back. The unit teetered slightly before finally toppling over and landing on top of him. His ears were ringing and he wasn’t quite sure where Hondo was, but he knew he had to find him. He made some attempts to shove the shelving unit off of him, but he was disoriented and it was too heavy for him to make much of a difference.

After what felt like an eternity but must have been only seconds, he a distant call. He blinked a few times and realized it wasn’t so distant after all, seeing Chris kneeling beside him.

“Street! Can you hear me?”

He could tell she was shouting but he could barely make out her words. She looked frantic.

“Where-” he broked off to cough, too much soot in the air, “Where’s Hondo?”  
“Deac and Tan are taking him outside. We gotta get this thing off you.”

Chris stood up and Street realized Luca was there too as the pair came around on either side and lifted in unison, standing the shelves back upright. Luca reached down and offered his fallen teammate a hand. He took it, letting Luca pull him up to his feet. He was a little unsteady, leaning on Luca for support, who brought Street’s arm up over his shoulders. Chris flanked his other side and the trio stumbled their way outside.

As they passed a burning lump in the center of the cafeteria, Street looked to Chris.

“Weston?”

She shook her head sadly, looking back at where the firefighters were working on dousing the flames. Finally, they made it out the door. Street spotted Hondo sitting on the tail of an ambulance, dirt all over his face, while a paramedic took care of a few cuts on his left arm. As soon as he was all fixed up, Luca and Chris set Street down in the spot where Hondo had been. He only realized the side of his neck was bleeding when the paramedic started wiping at it with antiseptic, and with that realization, it started to hurt. Once he was all bandaged up and he could sort of hear again, the team gathered next to Black Betty.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save Weston,” Hondo said solemnly, “But every single hostage made it out alive. This was a win.”

“It doesn’t feel like a win,” Street said, sticking his finger in his ear in hopes of clearing it up. It didn’t work.

“Well, maybe next time try  _ not  _ to get yourself killed. If I have to save your ass from a bomb again, you owe me lunch. You’re punch card it almost full.”

“Wait… we have punch cards?” Luca asked.

“Just him,” Hondo pointed to Street, “I keep a tally on all the reckless stunts he pulls.”

“Oh, you have numbers?” Chris asked, excitement leaking into her voice, “Don’t hold out on us, boss. You gotta tell us!”

“Hold on,” Street protested, “Can we at least save this discussion for when my ears stop ringing? I need to hear what you guys are saying so I can tell you how wrong you are.”

“I got ringing in my ears too cause of you, so suck it up,” Hondo laughed, “Come on, let’s head back to the station. I’ll tell y’all on the way.”

Everyone loaded back into the van, Street halting when he felt Hondo’s hand on his shoulder.

“Street, hold up.”

“Yea, boss?” he asked, turning around to face him.

“All joking aside, you did great in there. You did everything right. Weston deciding to pull that trigger isn’t on you. It sucks that it had to end that way and I hate it, but he had thirty-four hostages in there and they’re all alive right now because of us. Because of you.”

Street glanced back at the school, watching the parents who had arrived rush to greet their children. Listening to the cries of relief as they found them, taking them into their arms and clinging to them as tightly as they possibly could. He looked back at Hondo, giving him a small smile.

“Thanks, Hondo.”

Hondo smiled in return, clapping his teammate on the shoulder. “Now, please try not to run toward any more bombs.”

Street’s small smile broke into a grin. “Oh, you know I can’t promise that.”

“Yea,” Hondo sighed as the pair climbed into the back of Black Betty, “Don’t I know it.”


	3. Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Whumptober "Delirium, Fictober "Now? Now you listen to me?"  
Luca and Street are in a car crash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this one was really hard. I hate writing medical type stuff without doing research but I didn't have the time to do a lot of research XD

Street and Luca had managed to land themselves in the hospital on their day off. They’d been driving down the Pacific Coast Highway when some jackass ran a red light and had slammed into the rear passenger side door. Fortunately for Luca, he’d been in the driver’s seat, so he was only mildly banged up. The doctor had given him some pain meds for a mild case of whiplash. Street had been knocked unconscious when the car hit and he’d yet to wake up. The doctors had taken him in for some scans. In a way, the kid was lucky too. If the other car had hit the front passenger door, things would have been a lot worse for him.

Now, Luca was sitting in the waiting room. He was bent over in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing the back of his neck. He was sort of dizzy at the moment so he found it best to sit as still as possible.

“Luca!”

He jerked his head up, regretting it instantly as a wave of pain coursed down his neck, to see Hondo coming toward him, followed closely by Tan, Deac, and Chris. He rose from his seat to greet them, letting Chris wrap him in a tight hug.

“We got your message,” Hondo explained, “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just whiplash.”

“Where’s Street?” Tan asked.

“He’s getting some scans,” Luca grimaced, gesturing toward the double-swinging doors leading back into the medical area. “He’s been unconscious since the accident and he had a pretty bad gash on the side of his head. I think he hit the window pretty hard.”

The team settled in to wait, each one finding their own way to dissipate their nervous energy. The most popular one seemed to be tapping their foot on the carpet. Eventually, the doctor came out to talk to them.

“How is he?” Hondo asked.

“He should be fine,” the doctor answered. Everyone released a sigh of relief, but the doctor continued. “However, he has a grade three concussion. We’re going to need to keep a careful eye on him for a little while.”

“Is he awake?” Deacon asked.

“He is, yes. That’s how we can tell. This kind of thing doesn’t show up on scans.”

“He is? Can we see him?” Chris pressed.

“You can go back, but you need to very quiet,” the doctor warned, “And I should tell you now, he’s not like himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” Hondo asked as the doctor led them through the double doors and down the hallway.

“A form of delirium has set in. It’s very common with a traumatic injury like this. Basically, he’s confused and his brain functions are limited right now. It could last a few hours or a few days. But it’s not permanent.”

The doctor brought the group to the hospital room at the end of the hallway and held the door open for them. He poked his head in briefly to say, “Officer Street, your team is here to see you,” before saying his goodbyes to check on his other patients.

The team entered the room to see Street not in the hospital bed as they had anticipated but instead pacing back and forth across the room, wringing his hands anxiously.

“Street?” Chris called hesitantly.

He stopped, looking to them suddenly. He had thick white bandages wrapped around his head.

“Guys!” he said excitedly, moving quickly toward them, “Do you know where I am?”

“You’re… in the hospital,” Luca said slowly, “We were in a car accident. You hit your head.”

Street paused, concentrating for a minute before slowly reaching up to his head. He seemed surprised when his hand connected with the bandaged. He looked back at the team, laughing.

“That was not there a second ago.”

“Trust me, it was.”

“Were we all in the accident?” Street asked, concerned all of a sudden, “Are you guys okay?”

“No, it was just you and Luca,” Tan explained, “Do you not remember?”

Street didn’t answer the question, choosing instead to look down at the hospital gown he was wearing. “This is really soft!”

“Stre-” Deacon tried to say.

“Wait… this isn’t mine. Where’s my jacket? My wallet and stuff are in the pockets. I think…”

“Maybe you should sit down?” Chris offered softly, resting a hand on his shoulder to guide him to the chair.

“No!” he insisted, pushing her hand away, “I can’t sit in that chair! It’s not my chair. They said not to sit in it.”

“Who?” Hondo asked, “They doctor?”  
“I don’t know. Them,” Street answered, waving in the vague direction of the chair, “They say weird things. They said this isn’t a hospital, but you said it is. So they must be… um, what’s the word? They don’t tell the truth.”

“Liars?” Luca asked.

“Yes!” Street shouted, pointing at Luca, “Liars!”

“Street… you know there’s nobody over there,” Deacon said slowly.

Street glanced briefly over his shoulder at the chair, “There’s not?”

“No.”

He started chewing on his thumbnail briefly, a contemplative look on his face, “Then the monkey that came in here and killed Scooby-Doo wasn’t real either?”

“Probably not,” Luca said.

The team exchanged a concerned look. It would be almost funny if it wasn’t so scary. Though, once he was better, Luca was definitely going to be teasing the kid about this for months. Street looked alarmed all of a sudden, glancing back at the empty corner again. He came closer to them and whispered like he was didn’t want the intruders to hear the conversation.

“Where am I?”

Chris grabbed his shoulder again, leading him toward the bed with more force than she’d used before. She got him to sit down on the edge and then she sat beside him.

“I think maybe we should sit here for a minute. Just relax. Okay? Can you try and relax?”

“I can’t,” he insisted, still keeping his voice hushed, “I don’t where I am.”

“You’re in the hospital, Street.”

“But where’s that? Where’s the hospital?”

“Oh, well, um… this one we’re in right now is in Santa Monica.”

“Where’s that?” he asked. He was getting agitated, his hands shaking in his lap. “Where’s Santa Monica? Where  _ am _ I?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to answer that question,” Chris said, regret written across her face.

“I’m gonna go get the doctor,” Deacon whispered to Hondo, slipping out of the room.

The doctor came back and gave Street a sedative. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, the man in question flat out refusing to cooperate. He said the doctor was the monkey that killed Scooby-Doo. Hondo ended up having to hold Street still so the doctor could give it to him.

It wasn’t until the next morning that the sedative wore off and Street woke up again. Luca was the only one in the room at the time, sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed.

“Hey, kid!” Luca greeted, “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I think. My head hurts.”

“Yea,” Luca agreed, “Mine too.”

“I told you Will Rogers was a horrible choice. We should have driven up to Topanga. But no, you had to go to the beach named after your favorite cowboy.”

Luca chuckled, “Yea… I googled it while I waited. The only thing cool about that beach is the name. And this weird rock I saw a picture of. Topanga would have been better.”

“Now? Now you listen to me?”

“I mean, hindsight is twenty-twenty,” Luca smiled smugly.

Hondo came in then with a tray of coffees in his hand.

“Well, hey, sleeping beauty,” he smiled when he realized Street was awake. “Doctor says you can go home.”

“Finally,” Street said, “I’m sick and tired of this guy over here.”

“You two live together.”

“Dammit,” Street chuckled.

“You know what?” Luca said, “For that crack, I get your coffee.”

“What? That’s not fair!”  
  
“Hey,” Hondo interrupted, “Who said any of these are for you guys? I’m drinking all three. I had to get up at the crack of dawn to pick you up, I need these.”

“That’s fair,” Luca conceded, “Well, let’s get going already.”

Street got out of the bed and went into the bathroom to change into his regular clothes. Hondo had been kind enough to bring him a change since the stuff he’d been wearing yesterday was covered in blood. As they headed down in the elevator, Hondo caved and gave them each a coffee.

“Can I drive?” Luca asked excitedly as the walked through the parking garage.

“No,” Hondo said firmly.

“Aw, come on. That accident wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh, I’ll drive!” Street said.

Hondo gave him a sideway, “Are you still seeing monkeys?”

Street glanced briefly at Luca, “Yes.”

Luca let out an offended gasp and slapped his friend’s shoulder, “I’m not a monkey! You’re the monkey!”

“Neither of you monkies are driving my car,” Hondo laughed as they reached the vehicle. He pressed the button on the key and the car beeped twice. “Now get in.”

“I call shotgun!” Street shouted, shoving past Luca to grab the passenger door.

“I’ll let you have that one,” Luca conceded, “But only because you had to watch Scooby-Doo die. That must have been awful.”

“Thank you. It was.”

The three men all laughed as they climbed into the car and drove home.


	4. Human Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Whumptober "Human Shield", Fictober "I know you didn't ask for this."  
Always check the supply cabinet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is shorter than the others cause I wrote it in about an hour I think? But plus side, two in one day and I'm catching up!

“This is 20-David to command,” Hondo reported into the radio, “We’ve arrived on-site and are preparing to breach.”

The team was standing in a line-up in front of the door, Hondo at the front. On his signal, Tan came from the back and placed charges on the old paint factory door. They took shelter against the wall, three on either side of the door, and turned their faces away as a small bang sounded and the door fell in. They filed inside, remaining in formation, and broke off to clear the building.

“Give me two,” Deacon asked as he found a doorway, waiting until he felt the responding pats on his back until he entered and wave the flashlight on the end of his rifle around the room. “Left side clear.”

“Right side clear,” Luca called moments after.

“First floor clear,” Hondo confirmed, “Move up.”

The team moved into their line again as they carefully made their way up the steps, Hondo stopping at the top to provide cover as the others divided up again to clear the rest of the building.

“Give me two,” Street called, passing through a door that led into a hallway, Deacon right behind him. They checked the connecting rooms and found nothing. Deacon left to head back into the hall, Street performing one last sweep of the room. The rest of the team entered the hallway, the group meeting in the center.

“He’s not here,” Hondo determined.

“Maybe our intel was wrong?” Chris mused, “Maybe this isn’t his hideout?”

“No, we have satellite images of him coming and going,” Luca insisted, “This has gotta be it!”

“Maybe we just missed him,” Tan said, “Let’s stake the place out. See if he comes back.”

Street came out of the room at the end of the hall but was suddenly yanked back as something wrapped tightly around his neck. He instinctively brought his hands up but found that it was a wire choking him, too thin for him to get his fingers underneath.

“You didn’t miss me,” a man’s voice said from behind him, pulling Street closer with the wire until he was flush up against him, “Well, he did. Guess I’m pretty good at hide-and-seek. “

The team had spun around, every one of their guns trained on the attacker.

“Go ahead, see how good a shot you are,” the man taunted. He yanked the ends of the wire tighter, causing Street to gasp for breath. His fingers trying desperately to get any small amount of space between the garrote and his neck.

“Logan, let him go,” Deacon demanded, “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Uh-uh,” Logan said, his face peeking around his hostage’s head, protecting himself from any stray bullets, “I’m in charge here. Me and my friend, we’re gonna sneak past you guys nice and easy. Then maybe I’ll let him go. I’ve got commerce to finish up and I can’t do that from inside a jail cell.”

“Chris, you got a shot?” Hondo whispered. She was standing further to the right in the hall and would potentially have the best angle.

“I can’t get a clear one,” she answered.

“Why don’t you try it?” Logan chuckled. He leaned forward and whispered in Street’s ear, “Sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this. But we’re gonna make our way down the hall now.”

Street was running low on oxygen and he decided it was now or never. He moved his hands from the wire to Logan’s wrists and shoved all his weight backward, slamming the other man into the wall. Now disoriented, but still clinging tightly to the wire, Street planted his feet firmly on the ground and heaved forward, sending Logan flying over him and slamming onto his back in front of the officer. In the process, he’d let go of the garrote. Street grabbed it off his neck and tossed it aside, training the sight of his rifle on their captive.

“Do yourself a favor,” Street rasped, “Stay down.”

They got their guy into custody and some patrol officers came to cart him off to prison. Street was sitting on a low wall while everything was finished up on the scene, tenderly rubbing his now sore neck.

“Nice necklace,” Chris commented as she came up to sit beside him. He couldn’t see his neck but he figured there must be a nice thin bruise forming.

“Thanks,” he grimaced, “It’s Chanel No. 5.”

“That’s a perfume,” Chris chuckled, him merely shrugging in response. “Seriously though, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Sick moves back there, dude!” Luca shouted as the other four members of their team joined them. “That flip was amazing!”

“Wouldn’t have needed it if I had swept the room right,” Street said bitterly, resisting the urge to start rubbing his neck again.

“Look, kid, I’m not gonna lie. Your performance could have been better out there,” Hondo said, “But this time, nobody was seriously injured and we caught our man. Take this as a learning experience to always check inside supply cabinets.”

“Is that where he was hiding?” Street asked, his voice still rasping slightly.

Hondo smiled smugly, “Rookie mistake.”

“He’s right,” Deacon said, “People hide in those things more often than you think.”

“I didn’t even think someone could fit in there!”  
Hondo stepped forward and clapped his hand on Street’s shoulder, “Check anyway.”

“Yes, sir,” Street mock-saluted, earning him a chuckle from his teammates.

“Come on, let’s get back,” Luca said, waving everyone toward the van, “I have some of my healing tea in the kitchen! I’ll make you some for your throat!”

“Just when I thought today couldn’t get worse,” Street joked.

Luca laughed in return, wrapping his arm around Street’s shoulder and pulling him toward him as they all headed to Black Betty. “You’re drinking it.”

He did end up drinking it and it did taste as awful as he remembered, but it did soothe his aching throat a little bit so he wouldn’t complain. Too much.


	5. Gunpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Whumptober "Gunpoint", Fictober "I might just kiss you."  
Molly Hicks needs Street's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on the first episode of season 3. If you haven't seen it yet, there's mild spoilery content.

Molly Hicks had gotten her hands full with the battered women’s shelter her law firm was doing pro bono work with. It seemed every day there were a dozen more women who needed their help. The sheer numbers were overwhelming, not just in adding more work to her already full plate, but the fact that so many women needed a place to hide from their loved ones. From their husbands and boyfriends. It was appalling. It was days like this where she wondered if all the work she was doing was even making a difference. She remembered her dad used to wonder the same thing, maybe even still did.

It was another manic Monday as The Bangles would say and she was drowning in her caseload while juggling paperwork around for the shelter. She’d just sat down for a coffee and a breather when her cell phone rang. She 

“Rosa?”

“Molly!” the other woman cried, “I messed up!”

“Slow down,” she responded, her coffee forgotten as she snapped to attention, “What happened?”

“I went back,” Rosa sobbed, “I- I went back home. I know I shouldn’t have. I needed to get some things and I thought he was at- at work.”

“He’s there?”

“He is. Please, I need help. I locked myself in the bathroom. He has a gun!”

Molly could hear a banging sound she could only assume was Rosa’s husband trying to break down the door.

“Hang on, Rosa! Do anything you can to keep him out. I’ll be there as fast as I can!”

Molly jumped to her feet, rushing to grab her purse and making a break for the elevator. Once she got to the underground carpark, she hurriedly dialed the only number she could think to call. He’d helped her once before, maybe he’d do it again.

“Come on. Pick up,” she whispered to herself as she pressed the phone to her ear. She reached her car and fumbled around for the keys in her purse.

“This is Street.”

“Jim!”  
“Miss Hicks?” he asked, sensing her agitation through the phone.

“I know you’re at work. Are you doing anything right now?”

“I’m eating lunch. What’s wrong?”

“One of the women from the shelter. She went back to her husband’s house. She’s in danger. Can you meet me there?”

She heard a rustling sound on the other end of the line, and a distant, “I gotta run,” to whoever he had been eating with.

“I’m on my way. Text me the address.”

Fortunately, Rosa didn’t live too far away and she was there in fifteen minutes. She just didn’t know if she’d been fast enough. She knew enough to know she shouldn’t go in alone, but she had no idea how far away Jim was and she didn’t know how long Rosa had. After pacing back and forth across the front long for a total of twenty seconds, she decided she couldn’t wait and started toward the door. It was unlocked, so she ran inside calling for Rosa.

The sound of a door splintering spurred her on. She saw a hallway to her left and she ran to it, stopping the doorway when she saw Rosa’s husband standing in front of what must have been the bathroom, gun drawn on the occupant inside.

“You bitch! I told you if you left that you better not come back!”  
“Hey!” Molly shouted without thinking, “Get away from her!”  
The man spun around, gun trained on Molly’s chest now.

“Who the fuck are you?” he shouted, moving down the hallway toward her.

Molly stood her ground, staring the burly man down. “I’m here to pick up Rosa.”

He laughed, “She’s not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

The safety on the gun was pulled back and Molly was getting ready to duck behind the wall when Jim stepped in front of her, unholstering his own firearm and training it on the attacker.

“LAPD! Drop your weapon!”

Rosa’s husband didn’t respond immediately, though he did seem surprised to see a cop there. The house was dead silent, the only sound Rosa’s sobs coming from the bathroom. But eventually, he complied. Molly watched over Jim’s shoulder as the man slowly lowered his gun to the ground. At the last second, he brought his gun back up quickly and fired a round into the center of Jim’s chest. It hit his vest, but the impact was enough to send him back into Molly and the pair went crashing to the ground. Rosa’s husband turned back toward the bathroom and Rosa started screaming again.

Jim caught his breath quickly and climbed back to his feet. His gun had slid across the carpet when he fell and he was short on time. He ran down the hall, coming up behind the man and tackling him to the ground. A second gunshot echoed through the house.

“Rosa!” Molly shouted.

She scrambled to her feet and rushed for the bathroom while Jim cuffed the attacker. Molly let out a sigh of relief when she walked through the door. A terrified Rosa was crouched in the bathtub, her face tucked into her knees and her arms wrapped over her head. A bullet hole in the tile a mere three inches above her head.

“Rosa,” she called, dropping to her knees outside the tub, “Rosa, it’s me. You’re safe now.”

Rosa slowly lifted her head, tears streaking her face. “Molly?”

“I’m right here,” she swore, “Let’s get you out of the tub.”

She stood and held her hands out. Rosa grasped them tightly, letting Molly pull her to her feet. They went to leave the bathroom, but Rosa froze when she saw her husband on the floor. Jim looked up, holding the angry cursing man down on the floor.

“It’s okay, Rosa. He’s not going to hurt you.”

“Let’s go outside,” Molly said, gently guiding Rosa around her husband.

Backup was called to take Rosa’s husband into custody and with them came Molly’s father. Somehow he had heard about the commotion. Molly had been sitting with Jim on the porch watching the paramedics take care of Rosa, wrapping a shock blanket around her shoulders as she sat on the tail of the ambulance. It was cold out so Jim had given her his jacket, placing it on her shoulders.

“What the hell were you thinking?” her dad admonished as he reached them, “Just running in there all alone? You could have been killed!”

Molly rose from her seat on the cement, holding the front of the jacket together in front of her so it wouldn’t fall. He was acting anger but only because he was scared.

“I’m sorry, but Rosa was in danger. I couldn’t just stand out here and do nothing! Besides, Jim was on his way,” she explained, gesturing to the man still sitting on the porch.

Jim waved awkwardly at her father, resolutely staying out of the father-daughter spat.

“We’ll discuss  _ that _ later,” he said, pointing hastily at Jim. “What matters right now is that my daughter was almost killed today!”

“But I wasn’t, dad. An innocent woman’s life was in danger, I had to do something. Don’t try and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“This is different!” he said breathlessly.

“How?”

“You’re my daughter!”

“Exactly,” she smiled, “Where do you think I get it from.”

Hicks threw his hands up in defeat, smiling at Molly briefly before pulling her into a hug. He rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered, “I’m proud of you.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

Her father let her go, stepping back so he could look down at Jim. “Thank you for saving her.”

“Anytime,” Jim replied.

“Yea,” her father replied, shaking his head as he walked away.

Molly sat back down next to Jim, “Sorry I interrupted your lunch.”

He shrugged, causing him to wince slightly, “It was stale anyway.”

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled, “Just sore.”

Of that she was certain. She just knew there’d be quite a bruise on his chest later.

“Can I buy you a fresh lunch to thank you for coming to our rescue?”

Jim chuckled, “I have to get back to work. Besides, I don’t think I should help you anymore. You’re getting me bullied by my team.”

“Oh, am I?” she laughed.

“Oh, yeah. It’s relentless. They’re like middle schoolers,” he answered, turning his head and grinning at her.

“Well, I have to thank you somehow. I might just kiss you.”

“That’ll definitely get ‘em off my back,” he said sarcastically.

“Why don’t we find out?” Molly asked, leaning in and pressing her lips against his. He returned the gesture, gently pressing his hand on the back of her head. After a moment, they pulled apart.

“You know what?” he said, “I think I would like that lunch sometime.”

“Good. I already owe you two favors. I need to pay that off before I drown in debt.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me anything,” he said softly, “I’m happy to help.”

She rose to her feet, taking his jacket off and leaning down to drape it over his shoulders. “But you’re taking the lunch,” she said firmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, smiling up at her.

She turned and head to the ambulance to keep Rosa company. She watched as Jim got onto his motorcycle and buckled his helmet. He sped off on his way to the station, waving goodbye as he passed them.

It was strange. It had been a hectic day but, despite that, she felt calm. And she was more certain than ever that she was capable of making a difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide if I ship Street with Molly or not, but I did think it was cute when he called her "Miss Hicks" in the new episode, so I wrote this :D


	6. Dragged Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Whumptober "Dragged Away", Fictober "Yes, I'm aware. Your point?"  
Luca starts a dog walking business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this isn't really in the spirit of Whumptober, but the idea popped into my head and I thought it was funny. So, here you go!

“Hey, Street,” Luca called as he came through the front door of the house they shared. “You home?”

“In the kitchen!”

Luca shut the door behind him, heading into the kitchen where his roommate was doing the dishes.

“Mrs. Gonzalez down the road asked if I could take her dog on a walk for her. Wanna bring Duke too? Get ‘em both over with at once.”

“The mastiff puppy?” Street asked skeptically.

“Lucille, yeah. She says he’s too much energy for her, especially since she blew out her hip last week. I told her I’d help her out.”

“I’ll bet he is,” Street chuckled, “You do realize he’s significantly bigger than Duke, right? And not trained at all.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

“Nothing,” he replied, smiling smugly. He set down the plate he’d been scrubbing and dried his hands with the towel beside the sink. “I’ll get Duke’s leash.”

With Duke in hand, the pair walked down the block to Mrs. Gonzalez’s house. Luca went up the front walk and knocked on her door. A moment later, the elderly woman answered, smiling and greeting her neighbor with a hug.

“Thank you so much for doing this. My kids said I needed a dog around to protect me, I didn’t realize he’d get quite so big!”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Gonzalez,” Luca smiled.

They disappeared inside the house while Street waited on the curb with Duke. A moment later, Luca reemerged with the giant dog tugging him down the walkway. Lucille was only a year old, which was probably the worst age he could be. It meant he was already fully grown, weighing at least two-hundred pounds, but still had the energy and reckless abandon that a puppy would. Luca seemed completely oblivious to what he had gotten himself into, too busy being excited that he was able to help out his neighbor.

Luca reached the sidewalk, leaning his weight back to hold Lucille in place as she scraped her paws on the cement in an attempt to get going. He looked over at Street, a big grin on his face, “Ready?”

“After you,” Street said, waving his friend onward.

Lucille and Duke sniffed each other briefly and then they were off. The walk was going well for the most part. Both dogs were behaving. The mastiff was just heavy and it was clear that Luca was finally realizing this wouldn’t be as easy a favor as he had initially thought it would be. Two blocks down he was already out of breath, having to put his entire body into keeping Lucille in control.

“You alright over there?” Street chuckled after Luca reached up to wipe his sweaty forehead for the third time.

“Why does the woman need a dog this big?”

Duke made a small yipping noise and Street looked down at him, following the dog’s gaze to find a cat sitting on the sidewalk on the other side of the road.

“Be careful,” he warned Luca, “Keep a hold on her. There’s a cat across the street.”

“A what?” Luca asked distractedly, looking up.

It was too late though, Lucille had seen it. She let out a deep, booming bark and ran toward the cat. Luca didn’t have time to brace himself and was yanked forward, landing on his stomach. Lucille kept going, dragging him along behind her as she chased after the cat.

“Lucille!” Luca shouted, “Heel!”

Street stayed where he was, doubling over with laughter as he watched the scene before him. Tears sprung to his eyes and he used his free hand to wipe them away. Duke sat beside him on the sidewalk, barking at Luca and the mastiff.

“I tried to warn him, Duke. You heard that, right?”

Duke lifted his head and barked again. The cat had made a break for it as soon as it saw Lucille coming in its direction and the mastiff was now chasing it down the sidewalk, Luca in tow behind her.

Rather than help, Street pulled his phone out of his pocket to film the whole thing. He needed proof for when he told this story to the rest of the team after all. When Lucille ran around the corner and they disappeared from view, Duke got up and started tugging on his leash.

“Alright, alright,” Street laughed, “Let’s go get him.”

Street jogged across the road and around the corner, looking for his missing teammate. They weren’t hard to spot.

“Luca!” he called as he ran after them, “Plant! Plant your feet!”

It took him a second, but eventually, he figured out a way to maneuver so he was on his butt. He pressed his feet into the ground and leaned backward, pulling on Lucille’s collar. It wasn’t enough to stop her completely, but it did get her attention and the cat was able to make its escape. With her prey out of sight, the mastiff lost interest and stopped in her tracks. Luca sighed in relief and let himself fall onto his back.

Street finally caught up to them, still laughing uncontrollably. Duke went to Luca and sniffed his hair before licking his face, the man spluttering and giggling as he tried to push his dog away.

“I’m alive, okay Duke? I’m fine.”

“You wanna keep walking?” Street asked smugly.

“No,” Luca gasped, “I think Lucille has had enough exercise for the day.”

Street reached down and offered Luca a hand, helping him to his feet. They made it back to Mrs. Gonzalez’s house without further incident. She was over the moon to see her energetic puppy panting and ready for a nap.

“Thank you, Luca!” she beamed, “Is there any way you could do this again sometime? At least until my hip is better.”

“Ummm,” Luca hummed, “How about I take her to training classes?”

“Even better!” the woman cried, hugging him tightly. She reached inside her house for a moment and handed him a pan covered in foil. “I baked you boys a cake. A small thank you.”

Luca said goodbye, promising to be back later to take Lucille to an obedience course. He came down the lawn once more, waving the cake pan at Street.

“What’s that?”

“Cake!” he said excitedly, “So worth it!”

They made it back home, Duke laying patiently at Luca’s feet as the two men sat and ate their cake. Street was busy on his phone, sending the video to the rest of the team.

“What are you so busy doing?” Luca asked around a mouthful of cake.

“Nothing,” Street answered quickly, turning off his phone and shoving in his pocket. “Eat your cake.”

At work the next morning, Luca had earned himself the nickname ‘The Dog Whisperer’.


	7. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Whumptober "Isolation", Fictober "No, and that's final."  
LAPD holds the annual Family Fun Fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late. I fell a bit behind because I could not figure out how to write this prompt. I ended up going with a metaphorical form of isolation (which is again not whumpy. oops.) and writing a prompt a friend gave me several months ago. Cera, you waited entirely too long for this. Thank you for being so patient. I hope you like it!!

Summer had come and gone, the air growing cooler and the leaves turning to gold. That meant it was time for the annual Family Fun Fair that the department held every Fall. The higher-ups thought it would be a good way to show the officers and their families how much they were appreciated and used the event as a sort of morale booster. It was one of the best days of the year. A park just outside of the city was rented out and there were carnival games, a Ferris wheel, and barbeque. There was even a dunk-a-cop tank that was used to raise funds for the children’s hospital.

It was the day before the carnival and the team was getting off another twelve-hour shift. They were in the locker room, changing out of their gear and packing up their stuff.

“Oh, God,” Chris groaned as she stretched her arms above her head, “I feel like I could sleep all weekend.”

“But ya can’t!” Luca cheered, playfully punching her in the shoulder, “Tomorrow is the festival!”

“Finally!” Tan said, “I’ve been waiting all summer for this! That food truck they hire has the best barbeque in town!”

“Are any of you guys volunteering at a booth this year?” Deacon asked as he shut his locker. “My kids insisted I sign up for the dunk-a-cop.”

“Of course,” Chris laughed, “Why wouldn’t they want to dump their father in a bucket of water?”

“I’m gonna be running the prize booth for a bit,” Hondo said, “But I ain’t getting dumped in any water.”

“What about you, Street?” Luca asked, turning around to face his roommate.

Street zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulders. “Oh, I’m not going.”

“What?!” Luca, Chris, and Tan all cried in unison.

“How come?” Hondo asked.

Street shrugged, “I made plans before I knew what day it was. Can’t get out of it.”

“They’re all-day plans?” Luca complained.

“Yea. I actually am gonna sleep all weekend,” Street said, smacking Luca’s shoulder. “See you guys in a few days.”

Once he had left the locker room, Luca turned to the others with a frown etched onto his face. “What’s the matter with him? Why doesn’t he wanna go to the festival?”

Chris hummed an ‘I don’t know’ sound while the others shook their heads. The rest of the team finished packing up not long after and headed to their homes. 

The next morning, Luca rose early to pick up his dad before heading to help set up tents for the festival. He was in the middle of scrambling some eggs for breakfast when Street got up, shuffling into the kitchen and pilfering some coffee from the pot Luca had brewed.

“I thought you were sleeping all day,” Luca commented.

“Coffee first, then sleep,” Street muttered, sipping at his mug.

“That’s not it works.”

Street shrugged, leaving the kitchen and heading into the living room. Luca finished his eggs and poured them onto a plate. He went into the living room to find his roommate sitting on the couch with his mug. He’d picked up the TV remote and was surfing through Netflix. Luca sat in the armchair to eat his eggs.

“Why don’t you wanna go to the festival this year?”

Street glanced at him briefly before turning his attention back to the screen. “I never go to those things.”

“Never?”

“This is the first year I’ve been on the team for one. And I never went when Long Beach PD held them.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t want to go.”

“You can come this year with us!” Luca tried again.

“No, and that’s final,” Street said firmly, turning to look at Luca, “Go and have fun. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Luca sighed. He finished his eggs and went back into the kitchen to put the dish in the sink. Heading for the door, he swiped his car keys from the bowl on the entry table and got into his car.

Getting the tents and games set up went smoothly. His dad even helped out a little bit, even with Luca’s insistence that he didn’t have to. Eventually, it was time for the festival to begin and the families started arriving. Luca made his way around the booths with his dad. He kicked his butt at the skeeball, but his dad won the ping-pong toss. Hondo arrived with Darryl and his mother, the trio laughing and teasing each other the whole time. It warmed Luca’s heart. Deacon was busy helping Annie wrangle their children, so Luca didn’t get to talk to him much.

After his dad wandered off, no doubt catching up with some of his old S.W.A.T. buddies, Luca went to find the booth Chris and Tan were volunteering at. There was a small group of children playing the bean bag Tic-Tac-Toe, so Luca leaned against one of the supporting poles and distracted Chris while Tan encouraged the kids to try again.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal, Luca,” Chris said, “It’s just a festival. So what if he wants to stay home and sleep. It’s been a long week.”

“But he’s not sleeping!” Luca responded, “And sitting at home on the couch instead of going out for some fun is not like him at all.”

The children finished their game and moved onto the next booth. Tan put the bean bags back in their box and turned to face his teammates.

“Maybe a family fun fair isn’t his brand of fun.”

“Guys,” Chris said as if she’d just finished putting a puzzle together, “It’s a  _ family  _ fair. He doesn’t have a family.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s obligatory to bring one,” Tan responded.

“No,” she continued, “But wouldn’t you feel awkward showing up alone to an event you’re supposed to bring your family to?”

“Well, if that’s the reason, I’m gonna go get him,” Luca said, turning away from the booth.

“Come on, Luca,” Tan called him back, “Just leave him be.”

“It’s a  _ family _ fun fair, Tan. He’s supposed to be here.”

“I’ll come too,” Chris decided, hopping over the front of the booth and jogging to catch up to Luca.

“Alright!” Tan shouted after her, “I’ll watch the booth. Oh, no! I don’t mind!”

Luca drove with Chris back to his house, stopping first to find his dad and tell him they’d be right back. When they got inside, Street was in the same place as he’d been this morning except now he was playing Call of Duty. The wrappers on the table indicating he’d left to get food at some point.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open.

“What? Get bored already?” he laughed.

“No,” Chris said, “We’re here to fetch you.”

Street paused his game, turning around so he was kneeling on the couch, his arms resting on the back.

“What for? They need more volunteers?”

“No,” Luca answered firmly, “You don’t have to sit here by yourself all day. Come out and have some fun with us! Dunk Deacon in a tub of water! That’s the only time you’ll ever be able to get away with it!”

“Look,” Chris tried, “If you really don’t want to go to the fair, just say so. We’ll leave you alone. But if you think you can’t go because you don’t have anybody to take, then we’re here to tell you how stupid that is.”

“That is why you aren’t going, isn’t it?” Luca asked.

Street regarded his friends silently, before finally responding, “Alright, yeah. I just don’t feel like wandering around by myself.”

“So you sit at home by yourself instead?” Chris asked.

“Hey! I’m not by myself! I’m playing with…” he turned and looked over his shoulder, “P-Hound36.”

“Oh, yeah. I bet you two are great friends,” Chris responded sarcastically.

“We’re best friends, actually. Thanks for asking,” Street responded in the same tone, before softening and smiling at them. “Seriously, just go have fun with your families.”

“How can we when a member of our family isn’t there?” Chris said softly, giving her teammate a small smile. Street couldn’t help letting the corner of his mouth quirk up.

“Plus,” Luca added, “I’ll buy you a round of dunk-a-cop!”

Street laughed, climbing off the couch. “Okay, I’m sold.”

The trio drove back to the fair, joking and teasing each other the entire way. Once they arrived, Tan roped Street into helping with the last half of his shift on the beanbag toss. He said it was only fair since Street was the reason his help left him at the mercy of the children. He took Luca up on that offer to drop Deac into a tub of water and then bought two more for himself. It was for the children after all. And he went on the Ferris wheel with Deacon’s oldest kids as a favor to Annie, who had to stay with the baby. Later, Luca insisted that Street eat lunch with him and his dad, and Hondo joined with his mother and Darryl. 

It ended up being a fun day, way better than staying inside and play video games. And Street was just glad he finally had a family he could go to the annual fair with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I feel like nobody caught this, but I have definitely been watching too much Arrested Development and accidentally named a character after one from that show two chapters in a row now XD


	8. Stab Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Whumptober "Stab Wound; Fictober "Can you stay?"  
Chris lets her guard down and it leads to a hospital stay and a much-needed one-on-one with Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took FOREVER. I flew down to visit my dad and to do some other stuff in LA and I had like literally no free time. Some vacation huh. XD  
That and this one was surprisingly hard to write.

The day started quickly. Pretty much as soon as they arrived, they got a call. Fortunately, they’d been in their gear and were able to head out almost immediately.

“This is 20 David to command,” Hondo said into the radio as they pulled into the parking lot, “We’re arriving at Gateway Plaza.”

A local journalist had been targeted by an enraged viewer, believing that her work was dishonest and fake. As a precaution, the LAPD had placed a protective detail on her. They’d spotted the man in the food court at the mall and he appeared to be armed. Unable to leave their detail’s side to search for him in the crowd and being unclear just what kind of weapons this man possessed in a crowded mall, they’d put a call in for S.W.A.T.

“Listen up people,” Hondo said as they gathered in a huddle formation outside the front entrance. “We have no idea where he could be and we got a lot of area to cover. We’re gonna have to split up on this one. Street and Chris, you’re with me. Deac, take Tan and Luca. We’ll cover the south side of the mall, you guys take the rest. Patrol’s gonna work on evacuating everyone. Let’s do this right. Stay liquid.”

About five minutes into their sweep they received the all-clear from patrol, every civilian had been evacuated. Hondo was leading his part of the team through a restaurant. He stayed back to clear the dining room while Street and Chris moved on into the kitchen. The pair moved to separate sides of the kitchen, checking behind counters and in the pantry.

Chris heard a thump behind her and spun around in time to stop a knife from entering her back. Their target missed his target and swung his arm again in a downward arc, aiming for her face. She didn’t have time to raise her rifle, having to use her hands to stop the impending blade. They struggled for a moment before she brought her knee up into the man’s diaphragm. He doubled over, gasping for breath, but his grip remained firm. He pushed her back, a low counter hitting her lower back hard. Chris managed to jerk him to the side, slamming him into the wall. The impact caused him to drop the knife, sending it clattering to the ground. She tried to locate it and was momentarily distracted, allowing the target to swipe her legs out from under. She went crashing to the ground, but her grip on him never loosened and he went down after her.

Street came around the corner, having heard the commotion from the other end of the kitchen, right when Chris decked the guy on the side of the head and slowly climbed to her feet.

“Are you alright?” he asked breathlessly.

Chris nodded, “I found our guy.”

He chuckled before his eyes moved down.

“Watch out!”

The warning came too late. Before Chris could react, the suspect sat up, knife in hand once more, and plunged it into her abdomen, just underneath her vest. Two shots echoed through the kitchen and then the suspect was on his side, blood pooling beneath him. But it all happened in a fog as Chris pressed her hand to the wound in her stomach. Her balance faded and she started to go down. She shot a hand out to the nearest counter to catch herself, but she slipped and landed on her front.

“Chris!” Street shouted, crossing the room to her. His boots skidded on the floor as he came to a stop too quickly. He knelt beside her, rolling her over onto her back. “Chris! Can you hear me?”

She could, but she couldn’t form a response, blood making it’s way up her throat when she tried. She chose instead to focus on the sound of his voice. He pressed his hands firmly on her wound, trying to staunch the bleeding, causing her to make a pained choking sound.

“Sorry,” he grimaced, before shouting into the radio, “Chris is down!”

Hondo came charging through the swinging kitchen doors not a moment later, the doors hitting the walls with a bang. He spotted the pair quickly, dropping to his knees beside Chris.

“What happened?”

“We thought he was out!” Street explained, “But he picked up his knife without us noticing!”

“Hang in there, Chris,” Hondo said, pressing his hand to her head gently. He stood and paced away, calling into his radio, “20-David to command. Officer down. I repeat, officer down. We need a medic immediately!”

“What’s your location?” Hicks said through the line.

“Applebee’s kitchen. Hurry!”

“The suspect?”

Hondo glanced down at the body lying not five feet away. “Neutralized.”

For Chris, and even for the rest of the team, everything was a blur after that. She faded in and out of consciousness. She remembers the others finding their way to the kitchen at some point, their terrified faces hovering over her.

“Stay with us, girl!”

“Come on, Chris! Look at me!”

Oh, her boys. She loved her boys. Always worried about her.

The medics finally arrived and got her on a gurney, one of them replacing Street with putting pressure on her wound. The rest of the team followed after the gurney as she was wheeled to the ambulance. The doors shut and they were left standing in the parking lot, watching it disappear as it turned onto the road.

Street looked down, horrified, at his shaking hands. They were covered in her blood and, he wasn’t surprised, to find so was his vest. A hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up to see Hondo standing beside him.

“You alright?”

He shook his head, “What… what if she-”

“Don’t go there,” Hondo ordered, “We’ll all go down there and wait for her. She’s gonna be fine.”

When Chris woke up, it was slow and quiet to the sound of a steady beeping in her ear. It took her a minute to realize where she was, having to blink her eyes a few times before they’d open. She immediately recognized the hospital room, having been in them enough at this point in her life. She realized there was another sound besides the heart monitor, a soft snoring noise. Turning her head, she found Street asleep sitting in the chair beside the bed, his arms crossed on the mattress and his head resting on them. He’d changed out of his bloody clothes and washed his hands as best he could, and she found herself wondering out long he’d been there. She didn’t even know how long she’d been there.

Something caused him to stir. He woke up suddenly, sitting up and stretching his arms behind his head. He froze midmovement when he realized she was awake and watching him.

“Chris!” he exclaimed, dropping his hands onto the bed and leaning forward, “You’re awake!”

“What time is it?”

He glanced at his wrist, realizing that his watch was no longer there, it too having been coated in blood. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone instead. “Uh… just after midnight.”

“Did the others leave already?”

He nodded, “Hondo’s around here somewhere, but he made everyone else go home.”

“But not you?”

“He tried. It didn’t take,” Street laughed softly before sobering up, “How are you feeling?”

She thought for a second, mentally taking a catalog of her body. “Alright. Kinda hurts a little.”

“Do you need me to get the doctor?” he asked, already rising to his feet. He didn’t get far as she caught his hand in her own, holding him back. He stopped and looked down at their entwined hands before glancing up at her face.

“Can you stay?” she whispered.

He looked between her and the door, no doubt debating the urgency in finding the doctor before he finally nodded and took his seat again. He brought his other hand up so he was holding hers in both of his. His eyes met her own. “Always.”

She smiled softly at him, “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“You were right,” she said quietly as if keeping her voice low meant they weren’t actually having this conversation.

“I like to think I usually am. But refresh my memory. What am I right about?”

“The kiss…” she said, pressing on before he could interrupt, “You were right. There was a moment there. It wasn’t just a drunken mistake.”

Street didn’t answer for a minute, regarding her silently. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I could have died today-”

“But you didn’t!”

“But I could have,” she insisted, her eyes watering with unshed tears, “And I would have died with you thinking that I hate you or that I blame you. I don’t.”

“I know,” he said earnestly, tightening his grip on her hands, “I don’t think that.”

“This is all my fault,” she said, the tears finally falling down her cheeks, “I lost my best friend because I couldn’t make myself face the truth. I screwed everything up. Do… do you hate  _ me _ ?”

“Never,” he swore, “I could  _ never _ hate you. And you didn’t screw anything up. I blame myself more than I blame you.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” she sniffled.

“And it’s not yours either,” he insisted, “We found ourselves in a tough situation. And you handled it the best you could. I understand. And if you-”

“I love you,” she said all a sudden, looking up at him. He’d stopped midsentence, staring at her in shock. “I didn’t kiss you because I was drunk, but… it did help. I kissed you because I love you. And I’ve never felt that way about anybody and it scared me and I ran. I ran back to Ty and Kira because I didn’t know what else to do and I felt like I betrayed them. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to you.”

He didn’t answer her for a long time, staring down where their hands were connected, and she started to worry that maybe she had upset him. But he finally broke his gaze away and brought his eyes back up to her face.

“I love you too,” he confessed, “And I would love being with you. But I understand that that can’t happen for you. You’re with Ty and Kira. We’re on the same team. All your reasons. I understand. And right now… I just miss my best friend.”

“I do too,” she whispered.

The moment was ruined as Ty and Kira came running into the room. Their frantic worry making them oblivious to what they were interrupting as they rushed to the bed. Street stood to get out of the way, Kira taking his seat with Ty standing behind her. Kira leaned forward on the bed like he had, taking Chris’ hand and smiling at her with her mascara running down her cheeks.

“Oh, Chris! We were so worried!” Kira cried, “We were at work when the call came! We didn’t check our messages until you didn’t come home! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay. I just woke up anyway,” she answered, smiling back at her.

Ty turned to Street, reaching out to shake his hand. “Thanks for saving her. The doctor told us that if you hadn’t have been with her, she would have bled out.”

“No problem,” Street answered, shaking Ty’s hand and heading for the door, “I’ll give you guys some space.”

“Street,” Chris called, not sure what else to say.

He paused in the doorway, smiling sadly back at her. “I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

Then he was gone. And it left Chris feeling an odd sort of alone, even with the two people fawning over her. She knew they both loved her, but it never felt like enough.


	9. Shackled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Whumptober "Shackled"; Fictober "There is a certain taste to it."  
A teenage Street gets himself into trouble and it's up to Buck to set him straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sorta inspired by this week's episode. Street saying Buck gave him a fresh start. I started thinking how that would have gone about. Nice little feel-good oneshot for ya.

The precinct was relatively quiet this time of night, not the usual buzzing hub of activity he remembered. The front receptionist had gone home for the evening and there were only two officers actually in the building. He’d received a call from one of them, having used to work together in what felt like a former life. That was the officer that came to greet him at the front door, leading Buck back into the building.

“Thanks for calling me, Marcus,” Buck said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re welcome,” Marcus responded. The younger man stopped in the hallway, turning to face his former partner. “Look, this can’t happen again. Every time I do this, I risk getting burned.”

“It won’t-”

“You’ve said that before.” Marcus took a breath, glancing over his shoulder before turning back around. “This is the third time in as many months. Maybe it’s time to consider that you can’t help him.”

Buck sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. He finally looked up at Marcus, meeting his friend’s eyes. “Somebody has to.”

Marcus nodded, accepting the fact that it would be impossible to change Buck’s mind. He turned and waved for his visitor to follow as he made his way toward the end of the hall. Once they entered the bullpen, Buck’s eyes immediately searched the room for the wayward youth he’d been called to collect. They landed almost instantly, finding the boy slouching in a rolling chair against the wall. His hands were cuffed behind his back, his jacket crumpled on the ground. His hair was a mess, sprouting every which way, and there were dark bags under his eyes. He looked absolutely miserable.

Officer Mayberry had gotten babysitting duty it seemed, sitting at the desk closest to the boy as he typed up his reports.

“Thank God you’re here,” he commented without looking up from his screen, “I’m tired of the sullen silence. It’s awkward as hell.”

The commotion garnered the teen’s attention and he lifted his gaze from the floor to the new people in the room. As soon as he saw Buck he sat up straight, instantly more alert.

“Jim, get up. We’re going,” Buck said, motioning for the kid to stand.

He did as he was asked, waiting rather impatiently for Marcus to step forward and uncuff him. He started to follow Buck toward the door but was stopped when Buck turned back around.

Buck snapped, pointing toward the mass of fabric on the floor. “Grab your jacket.”

He did as instructed, quickly snatching the jacket off the floor and following close on Buck’s heel. Buck made sure to thank Marcus again before they left the precinct. Once they stepped outside into the frigid, night air, he turned to Jim with an exasperated look on his face.

“You have thirty seconds to explain to me why I was dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to pick you up at a  _ police station _ .”

He didn’t receive an answer, the kid instead turning his head the other direction to look down the sidewalk. He was shivering where he stood in just his t-shirt, his jacket dangling from his fingers by his side.

“Put your jacket on,” he said softly. 

Jim turned to look at him, mumbling, “I’m not cold.”

Buck repeated in a more commanding tone, “I said put your jacket on. It’s freezing out here.”

Jim again did as he was told, pulling his jacket over his shoulders and zipping it up for good measure. Buck waited to see if the conversation would start on its own. If maybe it wouldn’t have to feel like pulling teeth. But as the silence stretched on, he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Look, kid. I’ve let this slide the first two times. But I can’t keep getting called down here and-”

“I never asked you to come and get me,” Jim responded angrily. He turned toward Buck finally and crossed his arms over his chest. “I never asked for your help. So why don’t you just let me go to jail then, if I’m so inconvenient for you?”

Buck regarded the young man silently, thinking over his next words carefully. “Last two times it was petty theft. Now it’s public intoxication. Where exactly do you plan on this road ending? Do you want to end up like your parents? Dead in the ground or a prison cell? Cause that’s exactly where you’ll end up if you keep acting like this.”

“No,” he whispered, looking down at his feet. “I just… everything’s so hard.”

“Life’s hard. But we all have the hand we’re dealt. Our job is the figure out how best to play the cards. You’re gonna be twenty years old in a few months. I’m not going to be able to cover for you forever. You’ve got to start making better choices.”

Jim nodded stiffly, scuffing the sole of his boot across the concrete walkway. The November winds were kicking up and the two men stood shivering in their path.

“Alright, come on. I’ll drive you home,” he said, waving for the kid to follow him toward where his car was parked near the sidewalk.

“I, uh… I don’t have a home,” Jim said hesitantly.

Buck turned around and stepped toward him. “Come again?”

“I don’t have a home. I don’t have anywhere to go.” He finally looked up and Buck saw his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“What do you mean? Since when?”

“Since I aged out of the stupid system,” he answered, looking upwards in a vain attempt to prevent the tears from falling. “I couldn’t stay in the foster home anymore and nobody told me how to… to do any of this. I had some money saved up. Enough to keep me in shitty motels for a little while. But I lost my job a few months ago and I ran out of money and… and now I don’t have anywhere to go!”

He freed his arms from around his torso and brought his hands up to wipe his face, breathing deeply into his palms for a moment. He let his hands drop, clapping against the side of his legs. He looked at Buck, a pained grimace etched into his face.

“That’s why I was shoplifting and that’s why I tried to steal that lady’s purse. I’m fucking hungry and I really need the money. I’m… stuck and I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this by myself.”

Buck was shocked. He knew he had to say something. Anything. But he didn’t know what to say to that. He looked at the man standing in front of him and all he saw was that same child he’d met all those years ago. His mother had just murdered his father and he was terrified and alone and unsure what was going to happen to him next. Nothing had changed really. And here he was, looking at Buck and asking for help. In all the time Buck had known him, he had never once asked for help, no matter how badly he had needed it. Even now, he’d been struggling for eighteen months since he’d aged out of the system and he hadn’t let on in the slightest.

“Alright, first things first. Give me your fake ID.” Buck held out his hand, flexing his fingers back and forth. “Give it to me. From what you’ve told me, alcoholism runs in your family. I won’t be encouraging it.”

Jim slowly reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, pulling out the ID card and placing it in Buck’s hand.

“Now, you’re coming home with me. I’ll fix up the guest room so you have a warm place to sleep tonight and we’ll figure things out tomorrow.”

“Won’t your wife-”  
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to her. She’s always liked you anyway. Though I can’t figure why," Buck chuckled. He shoved his hands in his pockets to protect them from the frigid winds. “Now, get in the car, please. It’s freezing out here and I’ve got to be up for work in three hours.”

Jim smiled and started toward the car. “Sorry. How is work anyway? You got a promotion right?”

“Yup, team leader.”

“Nice,” Jim responded, getting into the passenger seat of the car.

Buck climbed into the driver’s seat, immediately turning on the heater. “You know, you might make a good S.W.A.T. officer one day.”

Jim laughed, “I don’t think that’s for me.”

“We’ll see,” Buck said wryly, pulling away from the curb and heading home.

Once they made it back to Buck’s home, they both breathed a sigh of relief as the warm air wafted over them. Buck shut the front door tight, stopping the cold in its tracks. He got to work setting up the guest room, ignoring Jim’s protests that he could do it himself.

“Should be good to go,” Buck said, straightening from where he’d just tucked the last corner of the sheet in. He pressed his palms to his lower back and stretched until he heard a satisfying crack. “Do you need anything else?”

Jim glanced briefly at the door, shifting uneasily on his feet. “Would you mind if I grabbed a quick snack from the kitchen?”

“Of course, help yourself,” Buck answered, heading for the door. A question came to his head and he stopped in his tracks. “When’s the last time you ate?”

The kid shrugged, glancing down at his shoes. “I had some peanuts at the bar.”

“Some peanuts at the…” Buck muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come on, I’ll make you something.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know. Just come on.”

Buck led the way back into the kitchen, leaving the hall light off to avoid waking his wife. He flipped the switch on in the kitchen and started rooting around in the cupboards for a pan.

“What were you doing drinking anyway, if you don’t have any money?”

“I was hustling pool. Only I drank too much and then I wasn’t hustling anymore, I was just losing,” he shrugged, “Besides, I wasn’t planning on paying.”

Buck glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, momentarily halting his reach for the frying pan. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

He dug a spatula out of the drawer beside the stove and took a bowl from the dish strainer. Finally, he moved to the fridge and took out a carton of eggs.

“Ever make an omelet?” Buck asked, looking up as Jim shook his head. He placed the pan on the burner and turned the gas on. “Well, you’re gonna learn. They’re easy to make. Not to mention, eggs are inexpensive and a good source of protein. Go ahead, crack one open.”

The kid reached forward slowly and took an egg from the carton. Buck slid the bowl toward him and he gently tapped the egg on the rim of the bowl.

Buck chuckled, “You’re gonna have to do it harder than that.”

Jim glanced at him before looking back down and hitting the egg harder on the bowl. It was a bit too much force and the shell crumbled, but most of the egg made it inside the bowl. Buck picked the few pieces of shell out and tossed them in the trash. After a few more tries, he managed to get it near perfect.

“Good, now grab the milk and cheese from the fridge.”

Buck walked him through the steps on how to make an omelet, hardly even noticing how late it was. They mixed in the milk and he let the kid grate the cheese himself. Finally, they poured their mixture into the pan and sat back, waiting for it to be ready to flip.

“What if I’m too fucked up?” Jim whispered, eyes fixed on the pan. Buck allowed the silence to stretch on, waiting to see if he would continue. “What if I’ve made too many mistakes? What if… it’s too late for me?”

“You’re nineteen years old,” Buck pointed out.

“So?” he asked, turning sad eyes on the older man.

Buck leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “You ever hear the phrase, ‘You can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs’?”

“Yea…” he answered slowly. “We just did.”

“What I mean is, nothing worthwhile ever comes without first making a few mistakes. Sure, your life is a mess now and I’m not gonna sugar coat it, you’ve broken quite a few eggs. But eventually, you’re gonna get a damn good omelet. You just have to keep trying.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I believe in you. And because, as long as I breathe, I’ll always be right here when you need me,” he promised. He glanced down at the frying pan, picking up the spatula and handing it to the kid. “That looks ready to flip. You do the honors.”

Jim took the spatula, a big smile on his face. He grabbed the handle of the frying pan and put the spatula under the eggs. But when he went to lift it, it fell apart in the pan.

“Okay,” Buck shrugged, taking the spatula and pushing the eggs around in the pan. “We’re having scrambled eggs.”

He divvied it up onto two plates and let Jim season them. Then he set them down at the table and the two men taking a seat in front of their respective plates. Buck took a bite of his disk and couldn’t restrain the grimace.

“Too much pepper?” Jim asked quietly.

“There is a certain taste to it,” Buck laughed, earning a smile in return. “And listen, as soon as I get home from work tomorrow, I’m gonna help you find a job. And when you’re old enough, if you’re interested, I can get you a job with the Long Beach PD.”

“Do you really think they’d want to work with me?” Jim asked sarcastically, “They have arrested me three times now.”

“I think they’d be thrilled the have you,” Buck joked. Right as he finished his eggs, his alarm to get up went off. “That’s me. I’ve gotta get ready for work.”

“I’m sorry I kept you up,” Jim called after him.

“Anytime,” Buck answered from the door into the hall, “Though try not to make a habit of it. Now, clean up the dishes and get some sleep.”

Jim was in bed by the time Buck left for work, the dishes washed and drying in the strainer. He was going into work on only a half night’s sleep, but one night wouldn’t be the end of the world. He’d left the kid with a full belly, a warm bed, and a smile on his face. And he liked to think that he’d made an impact somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I know it's November. I am planning on finishing this! It's just going a little slowly. Sometimes the ideas won't come to me, and then sometimes I'm drowning in them lol. I presently have 10 unfinished fic drafts on my drive. Ooops XD


	10. Unconscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Whumptober "Unconscious"; Fictober "Listen, I can't explain it. You'll have to trust me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I know I fell over the face of the planet and died, but SWAT was being so mean to Street the last few episodes and I just wasn't able to hurt him in my writing for some reason lol.  
BUT now they're on hiatus and I got the flu and had nothing to do but cough and write for a week. So BOOM! I'm back baby!
> 
> This one's nice and long cause I felt bad I was gone for so long! :D

Technology scared some people. The world was changing too much and too fast for them to handle. And today that fear manifested itself in a twenty-something member of a rebel group putting together an IED and barricading himself inside a small start-up tech company. Unfortunately, the team hadn’t known it was anything other than a barricade until they’d already moved inside.

Tan had eyes on the suspect first. Had watched as the man ignored his calls to stop and had dropped a backpack on the ground. It didn’t take him long to figure out what this rebel with a cause’s intention was. He’d shouted over the radio, warning the others of the explosive.

“We need bomb squad!” he shouted for the dispatchers.

“Everyone, clear the building. Evacuate the civilians and get the hell out!” Hondo ordered.

Everyone jumped into action, Tan taking off after the suspect. They didn’t know what the detonation method was, he needed to keep the guy in sight. The suspect had rounded the corner into the next room, Tan hot on his heels. As soon as he passed through the doorway, he was struck in the face. He couldn’t see what had hit him, going down hard. As he scrambled to his feet, Street entered from the opposite doorway, coming up behind their suspect and wrapping his arms around him. They struggled for a moment, the cell phone the man had just pulled from his pocket skidding across the room.

Their suspect slammed his head back into Street’s nose, causing his grip to lax momentarily. He took the opportunity, dropping the ground and scurrying toward the phone.

“It’s radio-controlled!” Tan shouted, lunging for the cell phone. “He needs line of sight!”

Tan grabbed the suspect’s ankle, yanking him back. He managed to avoid the feet flying toward his face, wrestling the man onto his stomach. He knelt beside him, getting his arms behind his back, ready to cuff him.

Then, a boom echoed through the halls, shaking the entire structure. The force sent Street stumbling back onto the desk behind him and toppled Tan off his feet. Lamps fell to the ground and shattered, filing cabinets tipping and spilling their contents. The hanging lights swayed back and forth.

The man took the distraction, scrambling to his feet, cell phone in hand. Tan tried to chase after him, not aware of the loud cracking just above him. He’d almost reached the doorway when arms looped around his waist and yanked him back.

“Watch out!”

He was about to shout, to scream, at his teammate for costing him precious inches between him and the bomber. But before he could even fully register that it had been Street who grabbed him, the ceiling broke free and pounds of debris landed right where he’d been standing.

It had been a matter of a second between where he’d stood and the debris falling, but it was a second too long. Before either of them could react, the world shook and a ball of fire burst through the doorway, sending them both flying.

Street came to coughing, his lungs gasping for air that was too filled with debris to be considered oxygen. Smoke was everywhere, too thick to see more than twelve inches in front of his face. The world was filled with red and orange as fire engulfed the building. Beyond the ringing in his ears, he could hear a dull roar and loud distant cracking as the foundation gave way.

He had to move, he knew that much. But where was their suspect? Where was his teammate?

“Tan!” he tried calling, nothing more than a feeble rasp escaping his throat. “Tan!”

He let his head fall to the side, squinting as the smoke stung his eyes, trying to get a glimpse of his teammate. As far as he could see, he was alone. Rolling over onto his stomach, he pressed himself up on his forearms, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass.

“Can anyone hear me?” he asked his radio, receiving only static in return. Reaching up with his right hand to check it, he cried out as his skin touched the hot, melting plastic. He ripped the thing from his vest before it could do more damage, tossing it aside. He was on his own for the time being, he just had to hope the rest of the team managed to clear the building. A light exploded over his shoulder, raining down glass not far from him. He ducked his head, covering it with his arm. The building was shaking, wires were sparking, and everything was going up in flames. He had to find Tan and get the hell out of here.

He managed to get his feet under him and push himself onto his knees, clinging tightly to the pile of debris beside him to keep his precious hold on his balance.

“Tan!” he tried again, followed by another round of coughs. The smoke parted momentarily, revealing a charred leg in the doorway to the next room. Street fell forward onto his hands and crawled toward it frantically. He grabbed the boot and yanked it toward him, revealing a burnt hoodie and not a S.W.A.T. uniform. The bomber had been too close to his own device. He breathed a sigh of relief, letting go of the suspect’s leg and sitting back up.

“Street.”

He jerked his head around, nearly knocking himself off balance, and searched through the smoke for the quiet voice.

“Tan!” he called, wiping the sweat from his forehead, creating streaks in the grime covering his face. Finally, he spotted him. Without thinking, he rushed to his feet and stumbled across the room.

The ceiling had caved in the corner of the room, pinning Tan between the rubble and the remains of someone’s desk. Tan was trying to free himself, pushing feebly at the slab of desk laying across his abdomen.

“I gotcha,” Street said, skidding to a stop beside his teammate. He grabbed onto the desk and pulled, throwing his entire body into it. It wouldn’t budge at first, and for a moment he worried Tan would be stuck, but it finally slid free. The sudden give threatened to take him down to the ground again, but he caught himself. Stepping around the desk, he reached down to offer his teammate a hand and pulled him to his feet.

“The suspect?” Tan asked.

Street shook his head. “Is your radio working?”

Tan reached a hand up to his ear to listen, his mouth forming a grim line. “Nope.”

“We gotta get out of here,” Street said, “The building’s shaking, it’s coming down any minute.”

“Were there any more civilians?”

“Not on this floor. If we see any on the lower ones we’ll grab ‘em, but we gotta find the stairs,” Street looked back and forth at the two doors in the room, “Which way?”

Tan thought for a minute, before pointing toward the doorway that held the bomber’s corpse, “That way.”

“How do you know?”

“Listen, I can’t explain it. You’ll have to trust me.”

Street nodded, heading the direction Tan had pointed out. Tan started to follow, crying out in pain when he put weight on his ankle.

“It’s twisted.”

Street stooped down and swung Tan’s arm over his shoulder, heaving him up onto his feet. The pair stumbled through the doorway, nearly tripping over the bomber’s leg. They were halfway through the next room when they heard a loud cracking sound. They both froze, looking to each other for an explanation.

The floor sunk an inch, and the pair made a dive away, but it was too late. The floor crumbled beneath them, sending it and everything in the room falling to the next floor. Street tried to grab onto something but he couldn’t get a firm hold and he and Tan disappeared in the falling rubble.

At least the bottom floor wasn’t burning. That was his only consolation as he sat up, gasping for the air that had been yanked from his lungs upon impact with the floor. He reached up, pressing his hand to his chest. Once he finally managed to inhale blissful minimally smoke-filled air, he set about finding Tan again. It wouldn’t be long until the entire second floor came down and they needed to be out of there.

Fortunately, he hadn’t landed far. Street turned to find Tan laying on his back in the rubble, small pieces of insulation and splinters of wood laying on top of him. He brushed some off his chest, kneeling over him. He grabbed the sides of Tan’s vest of gently shook him.

“Tan, get up. We gotta move.”

His teammate didn’t respond, causing a spike of panic to go through his veins. He pressed his ear to Tan’s chest, vainly listening for a heartbeat. It was too loud and he was wearing too many layers for it to work, so Street sat back up and placed his finger under Tan’s nose. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a short puff of air. Another quick inspection and some blood on the tips of his fingers told him Tan had hit head on the way down, having lost his helmet in the initial explosion.

The building shook again, a loud rumbling sound filling the air, and more wood and cement fell from above.

“Alright, buddy. Come on.”

Street stood up and moved behind Tan’s head, bending down to shove his hands underneath Tan’s armpits and yank him up. It was difficult to see where he was going walking backward, but it was the fastest way he’d be able to drag Tan out of here.

It was a dark maze in the bottom floor of the building. Smoke was beginning to filter in as the fire engulfed the whole building and made it’s way downstairs. He still wasn’t thinking straight and in all the commotion he couldn’t remember where the entrance to the building was.

“Trust me, he says,” Street grumbled, “I can’t explain it. Just trust me.”

He broke into a coughing fit again, glancing down at his unconscious teammate before looking back over his shoulder.

“We’re just gonna fall through the floor. No big deal.”

The building shook again, causing Street to trip and lose his grip on Tan. It took him longer this time, his energy waning, but he managed to get back to his feet. Bending down to grab hold of Tan again, he stopped and did a double-take when something momentarily blinded him.

“Light?” he asked, looking down the hallway to his left, “Light! Tan! The door!”

He grabbed hold of his friend, adjusting course and heading toward the open, frosted glass door leading out toward freedom, the sun hitting the glass at just the right angle to hit him in the eye.

As he neared the door, a loud booming sound deafened him as the building shook. He wasn’t moving fast enough. He needed help. He could see people outside, flashing lights, an ambulance, and what he thought were the bomb squad. Looking for his team, his eye finally caught her.

“Chris!” he called, hoping she could hear him above all the racket. “Chris!”

It worked, she stopped, looking around frantically.

“Hey!” she shouted once she spotted them, “There they are!”

She grabbed Hondo, shaking him, before taking off running toward the collapsing building, the team leader hot on her tail. The bomb squad tried to stop them but it fell on deaf ears. Before he knew it, Hondo was taking Tan’s weight off him and Chris was grabbing his arm and heaving his own weight onto her, helping him limp outside.

They made it clear just as the building finally gave way, the force sending the S.W.A.T. officer forward onto the ground. EMTs came and hefted Tan up onto a gurney after forcing an oxygen mask onto Street’s face with the promise to be right back. Chris was still beside him on the ground, brushing his hair out of his face and wiping the dirt off his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Street nodded, just trying to catch his breath as he relished the sweet flow of fresh air. “That fool… doesn’t know how to take the stairs. He decided we had to go through the ceiling.”

Chris laughed, relief filling her face as she let her head collapse onto his shoulder. “They wouldn’t let us go in to find you guys. We were so worried.”

“Eh, we’re fine. See?” Street smiled, looking over his shoulder, “Wait, Tan’s fine. Right?”

Hondo came over from where he’d been talking with the paramedics, “He’s gonna be. They’re taking him to the hospital. You’re riding with them so they can check you out.”

“Alright,” Street said, getting up onto unsteady feet. He gratefully accepted the hand Hondo offered him to balance. He grabbed the oxygen tank and climbed into the ambulance.

“I’m going to call Luca,” Chris said, pulling out her phone. “He saw everything from HQ and he’s pretty freaked out.”

Street sat down on the bench in the back of the ambulance, next to one of the paramedics as they checked Tan’s vitals. He was quiet most of the ride, just enjoying his oxygen as the medical professionals worked. When he glanced down, he noticed Tan looking at him through half-open, exhausted eyes.

“You’re alive!” Street joked, “Good, cause I gotta ask. Did we have to go through the ceiling?”

Tan chuckled, wincing as the action no-doubt pulled on some sore areas, “I’ll admit, it wasn’t part of my plan. But it was faster than the stairs.”

They laughed the rest of the way to the hospital, between coughing bouts. They may have been a little delirious, but no one would hold that against them.


	11. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Whumptober "Stitches", Fictober "It's not always like this."  
Doctor Lawrence gets a visitor in her emergency room. Set pre-series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Day 11 of October in February!  
Sorry, this took so long, this one got like longer than I expected and kinda evolved in a way I wasn't expecting it to? I wanted to try something new and I hope it worked out.

It was a quiet night in the emergency room. Not unusual, as Wednesday night seemed to be the day of the week that people kept themselves out of trouble. Come tomorrow night the waiting room would be full but, for now, she would enjoy her peaceful graveyard shift. She’d been feeling worn out lately, more so than all the coffee in the world could fix, and she’d take all the respite she could get.

Her lunch was just finishing up when Doctor Beauregard came and found her in the break room.

“You back yet? I need a favor.”

She sighed, finishing off her latest cup of cheap coffee and tossing the styrofoam cup into the trash can. “I’m finished. What do you need?”

“I got this kid, eight years old, with a Monteggia fracture in his right arm and some lacerations on his forehead. Can you cast it and stitch him up?” he asked, holding the door open for her as they exited the break room.

“You want me to fix up your patient?”

“It’s not like that, Sarah,” he rushed to explain, “The kid hasn’t spoken a word to me since he was brought in and the mom is acting strange. She says he tripped.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“The father’s nowhere to be seen and if you bring him up the mom changes the subject. But I need more before I go dragging CPS into this. He’s the same age as your son. I was hoping you could get him to tell you what happened.”

“Fine, but you gotta break it to my guy in room 42 that he’s got kidney stones.”

“Deal,” Beauregard said, “Mine’s in 40.”

They reached the end of the hallway and Beauregard opened the door to room 40, letting her step through first. The first thing she noticed was a very shy and terrified child huddled on the exam table, cradling his arm to his chest. The cuts on his forehead had been cleaned and had temporary bandages placed over them, but she could see the skin was angry and red around them. The mother noticed their entrance and halted her fussing over the child, turning to greet them.

“Ma’am, this is Doctor Lawrence. She’s going to be taking care of your son. Why don’t we go back up to reception so you can finish filling out that paperwork?”

Sarah shook the woman’s hand, catching the anxious look the woman sent back to her child. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. He’ll be all fixed up by the time you’re done.”

“Okay,” the woman said shakily, going back to her son and bending down to brush his hair from his face, “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Doctor Beauregard led the woman out the door, shutting it behind him as they left. Sarah grabbed the cart that a nurse must have brought in and started prepping the casting material. She glanced over her shoulder at the silent child. He’d yet to even look at her, his eyes fixed on the green vinyl mattress beneath him.

“My name is Sarah,” she said casually, “What’s yours?”

As expected, she didn’t receive an answer. Once she had everything ready, she went over to the table, rolling the cart with her.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” she said, smiling softly. She grabbed the manilla folder sitting on the counter beside the table and held it up to show him, before opening it and scanning the pages. “I have some tricks. I can cheat and read your folder. Hmm… James?”

The kid tilted just his eyes up without moving the rest of his head, looking up at her through his eyelashes and the locks of hair that had fallen back in his face. He mumbled so quiet she could barely hear, “Jimmy.”

“I like that name better,” Sarah said, setting the folder down, “Have you ever gotten a cast before, Jimmy?”

All she received in response was a small shake of his head.

“Alright, well it’s a pretty easy process. It won’t hurt at all. I’ll walk you through each step as I go, sound good?” She didn’t receive an answer, but then she hadn’t been expecting one. “What about stitches? Ever have those?”

The boy nodded his head, tucking his knees closer to his body. It tugged at her heartstrings, but she needed to maintain that everything was okay. She had enough experience with children to know that if she let him see he’d upset her, he’d think his answer was wrong and would stop what little cooperation she’d been given.

“Oh, then you should be an expert,” she said, keeping a light-hearted tone.

She let the conversation, if she could even call it that, die out as she set about getting the cast done. He remained silent as she did as promised and explained everything she was doing. Once the plaster was finally set, she carefully removed the bandages from his forehead and wiped the area clean with antiseptic.

“That looks like it hurts. Good thing they gave you painkillers, huh?” she said, tossing the wipe in the trash. “You wanna tell me how this happened?”

Another shake of his head.

“The thing is, your mom told my friend that you tripped. But, we don’t think that’s true.”

For the first time since she entered the room, Jimmy really looked at her. He wanted to talk to her, she could see it in his eyes. But for some reason, he didn’t think he could. She had to fix that, but she was running out of time. Sarah picked up the needle and thread, gently turning Jimmy’s head to the side so she could better see the wound.

“You know, you remind me a lot of my son. His name’s Sean. He’s eight years old, just like you,” Sarah said, focusing on her work as she sutured the gashes closed. “I hope he never gets hurt like this, but if he was I would want someone to help him. I want to help you.”

She tied off the sutures, cutting off the loose thread, and setting the needle aside. She grabbed the stool from the corner of the room and sat down in front of the exam table, clasping her hands in her lap, and smiling softly up at the boy.

“I know you’re just trying to protect your mom. You’re a good son, just like my Sean. But if it were my boy here right now, I would tell him not to look after me if it meant hurting him. Jimmy, if what your mom told us isn’t the truth, I need you to tell me so I can work on helping both of you.”

Sarah waited but he never spoke. She stood up and started packing up the casting material to be put away.

“My mom says it was an accident.”

Surprised, Sarah turned around to look at the kid. She’d given up on his ever answering her.

“She says he just gets angry sometimes. That he didn’t mean to,” Jimmy said quietly, looking down to where he was picking at the plaster around his wrist.

Moving the rolling chair aside, Sarah sat down on the exam table beside Jimmy. “Your dad?”

The boy grew silent again as he nodded, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Alright, look at me,” she said gently, waiting until he listened, “Whether he meant to or not, that kind of behavior is not okay. Neither you or your mom deserves to be treated like that. I’m going to go talk to your mom, okay? Will you be alright in here for a few minutes?”

Another silent nod. Sarah hopped off the table, brushing Jimmy’s hair from his face.

“A nurse will be back in the give you some more pain meds. Just sit tight.”

Sarah left the exam room, making her way down the hall to the front desk where she knew Doctor Beauregard would have taken the mother to fill out paperwork. Sure enough, there she was. Beauregard had left, no doubt to tend to his other patients, but the nurse at the desk was helping her with the forms.

“Hi, Cathy,” Sarah greeted, waving to the nurse, “May I borrow Mrs. Street for a moment?”

“Of course,” Cathy said, “We were just finishing up the last form.”

Sarah turned to the woman, lightly putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her to a more secluded area of the hall. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Her patient’s mother exuded a nervous energy, glancing around her like she half expected one of the nurses to come jumping out at her. But she let Sarah lead her anyway. They reached a quiet part of the hall, and she backed against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Everything’s alright, Mrs. Street,” Sarah said, hoping to soothe her.

“Karen,” she corrected.

“Okay, Karen,” Sarah said, smiling kindly, “Your son’s fine. I gave him a cast and I stitched him. He’s all good to go.”

“Then can we go home now?”

Sarah sighed, adjusting her coat, pulling it tighter around her. “Doctor Beauregard and I had some concerns about the origins of Jimmy’s injuries.”

Karen scoffed, glancing over her shoulder down the hallway before looking back at Sarah. “I told you how he got them. He fell!”

“How did he fall?”

“He tripped on something! Kids his age are always falling down, I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

“Ma’am,” Sarah said, keeping her voice low and calming to prevent an outburst, “Your son has a different story.”

The woman froze then, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for an answer. No doubt she’d told her son to tell them the tripping story and was surprised he’d strayed from it. “What… what did he tell you?”

“Not much, just that his father was the reason he got hurt.”

Karen snapped her fingers, realization crossing her face. “That’s right. That’s how he tripped. My husband and Jimmy were playing, a bit rough, but Jimmy tripped and hit his head.”

“Karen, I’m not an idiot. I know whatever this was was no accident.”

Mrs. Street narrowed her eyes, glaring at the doctor standing in front of her. “What do you know? You don’t have any details, just a vague notion of what happened. You weren’t there. You don’t know us. How can you stand here and judge me when you haven’t even the slightest idea what it’s like to live the way I do?”

The back and forth between frightened and angry were giving Sarah whiplash and it was taking every ounce of self-control in her body not to lose her own temper. That wouldn’t fix anything.

“Details or no, it’s enough that the law requires I call CPS in to investigate.”

The switch was instant. Any trace of anger present in her demeanor before vanished. Karen’s shoulders folded in, her hands clasping together in front of her to plead with Sarah. “No. No, please! They’ll take him away!”

“If the situation is that bad, then maybe they should.”

“I’m begging you!” Karen cried, tears welling in her eyes. “He’s all I have! I can’t lose him!”

“And what about him?” Sarah asked, “How often does something like this happen?”

“He’s never broken any bones before-”

“And stitches? This wasn’t his first time for those. How many different hospitals have you taken him to to avoid raising suspicion?”

Karen was stumped again, no doubt shocked that Sarah had hit the nail head-on.

“You may need your son, but is letting this go on any longer really what he needs?”

Karen dropped her head, staring at the linoleum tile beneath her, her hair falling into her face. For a moment, she looked just like her son. Scared and alone. Sarah had been harboring contempt toward the woman for allowing her child to suffer like that, the source being her love for her own child. The disbelief that anyone could ever allow their child to hurt like that. But now she saw it for what it was, the mother was just as scared as her son. Just as lost.

Without looking up, she whispered to the floor in despair, “It’s not always like this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sarah said softly, “I don’t want them to take your son away. I know the system isn’t the best. God knows I wouldn’t be able to bear losing my boy. But I need to file a report with the CPS.”

“Look,” Karen said conspiratorially, voice low to avoid the ear of passing bystanders, “I have a plan, okay? I’m working on getting a job, under the table so my husband doesn’t know. I’m gonna save up some money to get away from him. I’ll run where he can never find us, and then Jimmy and I will be safe. I just need more time.”

Sarah’s hackles raised again. The sympathy she felt for this desperate mother did not completely negate her suspicions. This woman switched moods father than someone could turn on their heel and walk the other way. She lied seamlessly and Sarah had no way of knowing whether or not this plan of hers was for real.

“ _ Please _ ,” Karen pleaded, bringing Sarah’s attention back. “You said you had a son. Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to protect him?”

“Of course I would,” Sarah answered without hesitation.

“Then know I would do the same. I’m begging you, don’t report us. He’d lose everything too if he was taken away. Nobody would care to protect him the way I would. I’ll keep him safe. I promise.”

Perhaps it was because she was thinking of Sean, picturing him in her patient’s place, but she found herself nodding. And before she knew it, she was agreeing.

“Okay,” she sighed, “I’ll write in the report that he tripped. I won’t involve CPS.  _ But _ if I see him here again, no exceptions.”

“Oh, thank you!” Karen cried, hugging the doctor tight. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me,” Sarah said, grabbing the woman’s arms and removing them from her shoulders, “Just keep your promise.”

Karen wiped her tears from her face, “I will. I will, I swear!”

A half-hour later, Sarah signed the final discharge form and waved at the shy boy and his mother as they left the emergency room hand in hand. She smiled at Jimmy, earning a little one in return. When she got home in the morning, she kissed her sleeping son’s forehead and swore to him that she’d never let anyone hurt him. He didn’t hear, but she took comfort in the fact that he knew.

For whatever reason, that case stuck with her. She never did see the mother or her boy again. Occasionally, she’d think of it and wonder if she made the right decision. Four years later, she was sitting in front of the fireplace reading that morning’s newspaper when the headline caught her eye.

_ Woman Kills Abusive Husband, Facing 25 to Life _

The picture is what drew her to it, she knew that face. The name in the article confirmed her suspicions. She read on about the circumstances leading up to it. The dozen or so 911 calls that ended fruitlessly. She read about the twelve-year-old boy who had witnessed the whole thing, left an orphan with his father dead and his mother on her way to prison. No remaining family stepped up to claim him.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she slowly set the newspaper aside. She walked down the hall to Sean’s room, opening the door and stepping inside. She wrapped her boy in a hug, ignoring the confused protests.

“Mom,” he whined, “I’m too old for hugs.”

She chuckled. Her boy liked to act so grown up, preparing himself to enter eighth grade next year where he’d be the big kid of the school and, in doing so, believed he’d officially became an adult. 

“Not today,” she whispered, hugging him tighter.

He stopped struggling, letting her hold him. “Are you alright, mom?”

She pulled back from him, brushing his long locks out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, exasperated, “You tell me every day.”

“Good, don’t ever forget that,” she said, standing and heading for the door, “You want to go get some ice cream?”

“Yes!” he shouted, jumping to his feet and rushing to get his shoes.

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. Her little boy, too grown up to spend time with his mother, except when ice cream was involved. He was bigger now, but he still had a lot of growing up to do. And tonight she’d remember how lucky she was that she’ll get to be here for all of it.


	12. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Whumptober "Bleeding Out", Fictober "You can't give more than yourself."  
Things go very wrong in what should have been an easy suspect chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so like heads up, cause I know this is supposed to be whumptober but I'm not usually very whumpy, ummm yeah this story is kind of violent lol. I honestly do not know where it came from.  
This was technically supposed to be day 23 but this story came to me so I swapped em around a bit. But yeah, I think this one's a doozy.

“Alright, Deacon, Tan, and Luca, you go left. Street and Chris, you’re with me. Let’s find this son of a bitch.”

The team silently broke off in their assignments as they entered through the front gate of the junkyard. One group veering left while the other went right. They’d caught up with their suspect, Anthony Galvez, two blocks ago when he’d tried to unload some fentanyl he’d killed to get, but he’d slipped past their perimeter and the team had chased him here. Now he was somewhere in this maze of shattered glass and crumbled metal.

The teams kept low as they searched, exactly as they were trained. Knees bent, HK sights at eye level as they scanned their surroundings. Something always made Hondo’s heart proud to see his team move in formation so smoothly.

He came to a fork, where the piles of cars separated into two pathways. Silently, he raised his hand in an enclosed fist, signaling Chris and Street to come to a halt behind him. Opening his hand out flat, he made a small, swift chopping motion to send them left. Breaking away, they headed where they were told and he went straight. The paths weren’t exactly laid out, rather just being created wherever the cranes or the forklifts had decided to stack them. His path wound around the pile of cars, heading back in the direction he’d sent the others off in.

Movement up ahead caught his eye, a flash of light in the side-view mirror of an old, grey sedan. It was a split-second’s notice but it was enough as Hondo leaped to the side, ducking down beside the nearest car, as shots were fired in his direction. The bang ricocheting off the canyon-like walls of the junkyard stacks.

“20-David. Suspect has opened fire. He has me pinned. I need back-up.”

“On our way, boss,” Chris’ voice crackled through the radio.

Hondo leaned forward slightly, rifle at the ready, as he tried to get a visual on the suspect. He couldn’t return fire until he had something to shoot at. The firing stopped and another movement up ahead had him raising his HK to eye level once more, but he soon recognized the figure as Street, closely followed by Chris.

“Hondo!” Street called when he caught sight of him, “Where’s the suspect?”

“You didn’t see him?” Hondo shouted, “He was firing from over there. I saw his reflection in that mirror.”

He pointed to the sedan to his right. The path had curved left, so that meant that was where the shooter was. At least, he’d thought so.

“We didn’t see anything.”

Chris looked up at a forklift parked to Hondo’s left, right where the path began to curve, She squinted in the afternoon sun. The sun was right behind the forklift, making it difficult to see up there. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she bent her knees, raising her rifle upward. “Look out!”

A man leaped off the forklift, colliding into Street before he had time to react. The impact took him down and the two men rolled through the dirt before the suspect caught his feet coming out of the roll. The shoulder strap for Street’s rifle came loose and skidded away, as did his helmet.

“Hands where I can see them!” Chris shouted, trying to move in toward the suspect. He turned on her and fired in her direction. Ducking for cover as quick as she could, she got down behind the back end of a 90s pick-up truck.

When the suspect saw Hondo making the same move, he turned and fired rounds in his direction too. Neither Hondo nor Chris could fire with Street so close to the suspect, so they had to hunker down until they could make their move.

Street reached out from his position on the floor and grabbed the suspect’s ankle, yanking it out from under him. The guy fell forward, his gun skidding across the dirt. He yanked his foot from Street’s grasp and sent it back full-force, striking Street in the face with his boot.

Now unarmed, Hondo and Chris could move in.

“LAPD! Get on the ground now!” Hondo ordered.

Anthony, looking more like a cornered animal now than a seasoned drug dealer wanted in three states for second-degree murder, glanced back and forth between the two advancing officers with wide eyes. Before they could reach him, he rushed backward and grabbed onto Street, who was still reeling from the strike to the face.

The area had been too wide, they hadn’t been able to cover it fast enough. They’d only been able to make it halfway across the path before they’d been too late.

Anthony pulled a knife from his pocket as he knelt behind Street, holding it to their teammate’s throat as he wrapped his other arm around his neck. Street grabbed the suspect’s arm, but couldn’t break free without risking hurting himself.

“Get back!” Anthony shouted, “Back the fuck up or I swear I’ll kill him!”  
Hondo held up a placating hand, letting his rifle go as he reached his other hand for his radio. “Deac,” he whispered, “Galvez has Street. I need you guys to come around the east end of the lot to head him off.”

“Copy.”

Slowly, Galvez stood up, bringing Street with him. Chris took a cautious step toward the pair, but the suspect spun toward her and pressed the knife into Street’s neck. Street grimaced as a small trail of blood dripped down onto his vest.

“You think I’m joking? Huh? Just try it!” he shouted, looking back and forth between Hondo and Chris. Anthony licked his lips nervously, thinking of his next move. Finally, he looked at Chris and nodded in Hondo’s direction. “You, get over there. Slowly!”

Chris did as she was told, sidestepping toward her boss as she refused to remove the sight of her HK off Galvez. Once she was next to him, Hondo whispered to her, “You got a shot?”

“Negative.”

Galvez started backing toward the opposite end of the pathway. Street moved with him, shooting Hondo a questioning glance, wondering what he was supposed to do. Hondo held his hand out palm first, a signal to stay put and to stay calm.

“What’s your plan here, Anthony?” Hondo called after him, “I know you didn’t want this life, man. I know your brother roped you into this. But where is he now?”

“Don’t you talk about my brother!”

“He left you! He saw us and he split and he left you to clean up his mess. But you don’t have to die for him.”

“I’m not going back to prison,” Galvez said through gritted teeth.

“And you really think killing a cop is gonna make your situation any better?” Hondo said, “Let him go and we can talk this out. I’m sure you have plenty of dirt on your brother’s operation. The D.A. would love to hear about it.”

“You’re not hearing me, man,” Anthony laughed before his face got stone-cold serious. “No prison. I’m either leaving here a free man or in a body bag.”

Hondo took the chance of moving a hair closer, giving the suspect a pleading look, “You have a chance of making it out of here alive. And if you play ball, maybe you don’t have to spend the rest of your life in prison. But not if you hurt him.”

Galvez took a step backward and pressed the knife into Street’s neck again when Hondo moved in, causing the team leader to freeze again.

“Just how far do you think you’re gonna get with him, man?” Hondo asked, gesturing to Street.

The suspect glanced behind him, judging the distance between where he stood and cover. He was a mere foot from disappearing around the bend in the pathway. He looked back at Hondo and shrugged apologetically.

“Far enough.”

Before Hondo could process what that meant, Galvez slashed the knife across Street’s throat. The suspect let him go and disappeared around the corner. Street’s hand shot to his neck as he fell to his knees, his other arm coming out to catch himself before he could faceplant into the ground.

“Street!” Chris shouted as she and Hondo rushed toward him.

Blood was rolling down through their teammate’s fingers as he held his throat, staining the yellow dirt beneath him a dark red. Hondo skidded to his knees on Street’s right side, Chris following suit on his left.

“Chris, get him on his back.”

Chris nodded frantically, gently placed her hands behind Street’s shoulders and pushed until he moved with her and laid down on his back.

“Officer down! I repeat, officer down. We need a bus at Hansen’s Salvage on 7th and Steinway, now!” Hondo shouted into his radio. He sat up, unhooking his vest so he could get to his jacket underneath. He balled it up and pressed it to Street’s throat to staunch the flow of blood.

A man’s voice answered, “31L responding, we’re two blocks out.”

Gunfire in the distance drew Chris and Hondo’s attention before Deac called through the radio, “30 David, suspect down.”

“Good, now get over here! We’re on the north side of the lot,” Hondo ordered.

“Hondo!” Chris cried, drawing his attention back down to Street.

Their teammate was gasping for breath, blood bubbling out of his mouth and rolling down his cheek.

“His trachea… his lungs are filling with blood,” Hondo realized, “Chris! Get behind him and tilt his head upward. We have to seal the laceration so he doesn’t drown.”

Chris moved quickly, sliding through the dirt to get behind her teammate. She crossed her legs and lay his head in her lap, keeping his head tilted upward. Just then, the others came running around the corner where Galvez had disappeared. They took one look at Street on the ground and the stained earth beneath him and the froze like deer in headlights.

“What happened?” Deacon asked, horrified.

“Galvez,” Hondo said swiftly, keeping his attention on Street, “Luca! Get to the entrance and make sure the EMTs can find us. Let them know there’s a laceration to his trachea and he can’t breathe.”

When nobody moved, Hondo looked up to find Luca staring in shock, his eyes fixed on the teammate making shallow inhales as he tried to get air into his lungs but couldn’t.

“Luca! Now!” Hondo yelled.

That snapped him out of it. He shook his head and ran past everyone back toward the front of the junkyard. Chris grabbed hold of Street’s hand with one of hers, placing her other on his cheek to get his attention.

“Street, look at me! Everything is going to be okay. Just squeeze my hand and do not let go.”

His frightened eyes moved from the clear, blue sky and tilted up to her face, holding onto her steady gaze. Hondo glanced down and saw Street’s fingers tighten around hers, She nodded encouragingly, giving him a small, painful smile as she tried to hide how terrified she was. She’d fall apart later, Hondo knew, but right now she had a job to do.

What felt like an eternity later but couldn’t have been more than two minutes, Luca came running back into view again, two EMTs right behind him with their gear bag and a gurney. Hondo quickly moved out of the way, removing his jacket so they could get to work.

The male EMT quickly replaced the jacket with a swatch of bandage as the female took some readings.

“His 02 levels are 85 and dropping,” she said.

“Get him up,” the man said, “We need to get him on the bus. We’re gonna have to do an RSI, fast. Prep the ketamine.”

They worked fast and in under a minute they had him on the gurney and wheeling him away, leaving the remaining five members of the team standing there in stunned silence. It wasn’t until they were out of view that Hondo looked down and realized the blood had soaked through his jacket, coating his hands.

“Chris?” Tan said hesitantly, coming up behind her to stand by her side.

Hondo tore his eyes off his blood-stained palms to see Chris still sitting on the ground, staring after where the EMTs had disappeared. Her own hands were stained red, the blood transferring from Street’s hand to her own. And it was hard to see on her black clothing, but she was covered in the stuff.

“Chris?” Tan repeated, reaching his hand down in front of her face.

When it entered her field of view, she startled. She looked up at Tan, who had a grim smile on his face. He shook his hand as an invitation and she took it, allowing him to pull her up onto her feet.

“Alright, people,” Hondo said after he was finally able to gather himself. The team needed a leader, especially now, and that burden fell on him. He’d never wanted anything less than in this moment. “Let’s finish up here as fast as we can so we can get down to the hospital.”

A suspect had been killed and an officer gravely injured. They couldn’t leave until giving their statements. It didn’t take more than an hour, but it was still too long. By the time they reached the emergency room, they were informed that Street was in surgery and they’d have to wait.

“Hurry up and wait,” Hondo muttered to himself as the group headed to the waiting room.

Deacon, Tan, and Luca each found seats in the checkered chairs in the center of the room. Meanwhile, Hondo and Chris went into the bathroom to wash the blood off their hands as best they could. Unfortunately, that stuff was notoriously hard to get rid of and no matter how hard they scrubbed, their hands were still tinted red when they emerged from the bathroom. Chris sat down by herself in the seat closest to the door, her hands clenched in her lap as she nervously tapped her foot. Hondo took the empty seat beside Deac, with Tan and Luca across from him.

He let out a deep, angry breath as he ran through the event in his mind. Searching for something,  _ anything, _ he could have done differently. Maybe none of them would have to be here right now. Maybe Street’s life wasn’t hanging on by a thread.

“I know what you’re doing,” Deacon said after awhile. His voice calm and level. Any sign of his earlier panic gone as he’d had time to adjust.

“What’s that?” Hondo huffed, watching the door beside the reception desk. Waiting for the doctor to walk through.

“Blaming yourself. It’s pointless you know.”

“I’m team leader, Deac. The safety of my team is in my hands.”

“And this is a dangerous job,” Deacon said, shrugging like things were out of his control. “Stuff like this happens. And it sucks and I hate this… this waiting. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get that image out of my head. But sitting around playing the blame game isn’t going to help anybody, least of all Street. It’s just going to drive you crazy.”

“If I can figure out what went wrong then maybe I can stop this from happening to another member of my team,” Hondo argued.

“You won’t, because you didn’t do anything wrong. You gave this mission your all just like every other mission. You can’t give more than yourself.”

Hondo sighed, shaking his head slowly. “If he doesn’t make it…”

“He will,” Deacon said adamantly, following Hondo’s gaze to the reception desk. “He will.”

Deacon ended up standing and heading to the back of the room to call Annie. After today, he just needed to hear her voice. Hondo had already filled Hicks in back at the scene, but he got a text as they waited that said he was on his way to pick up Molly to bring her by.

An eternity later, the door finally opened and a doctor walked through. Hondo tried not to get his hopes up. Five other doctors had already come through that door and none of them had been the one he was waiting for. But this one came into the waiting room and looked around at the men and woman still dressed in their S.W.A.T. uniforms, their vests left back in Black Betty. Everyone slowly perked up as the man got closer, waiting expectantly.

“Judging from the looks of you, you’re here for Officer Street?”

And everyone was on their feet, crowding around the doctor.

“How is he?” Chris asked, getting right to the chase.

“He’s out of surgery and he’s stable. Fortunately, his jugular vein wasn’t severed completely so I was able to repair all of the damage. And the laceration to his trachea wasn’t deep. He should make a full recovery.”

A collective sigh of relief was released into the air as the entire team released the breath they’d been holding in sync.

“You’re all very lucky. If it had been his carotid… Hell, if that ambulance hadn’t been as close as it was, we’d be having a very different conversation.”

It hit like a ton of bricks, hearing confirmation of just how close they’d come to losing their friend.

“Can we see him?” Hondo asked.

“Yes,” the doctor nodded, gesturing for them to follow. “He’s still out but he should be waking up soon. And the laceration wasn’t anywhere near his vocal cords so he should be able to speak without any issues.”

He stopped in front of room 201 and waving through the open door for them to go inside. Hondo ushered everyone in ahead of him, pausing to shake the doctor’s hand.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Of course.”

Hondo went inside, leaving the door open behind him. Chris had immediately claimed the chair beside the bed, leaning forward to place her elbows on the mattress as she tucked her hands up underneath her chin. The others were all milling about near the foot of the bed, unsure what to do with themselves. Street himself looked different, laid up in a hospital bed with strips of bandages taped to his neck. Hondo hadn’t ever seen him asleep before, the kid was always wide awake and so full of life. It was a strange sight, especially when it was so artificial.

Anesthetic wore off quickly, it seemed, as only a few minutes later Street was slowly blinking his eyes open. As soon as Chris saw it, she sat up causing everyone else to jerk to attention.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice rough. Hondo noticed then the tears that had been brimming in her eyes and streaks in the grime on her face where some had already fallen.

“Hey,” Street answered, his own voice quiet for an entirely different reason. But that didn’t stop him from smiling weakly when he saw her sitting beside his bed. It was followed by a grimace soon after.

“Are you in pain?” Hondo asked.

Street looked at the others, finally realizing they were there before his eyes drifted to Hondo. He tried to hide it in his voice, but the way his nostrils flared when he spoke gave him away. “Um, a little, yeah.”

“I’ll get the doctor,” Tan said as he bolted out the door.

“Hondo, I- I‘m sorry,” Street said, his eyes pleading to be forgiven for a transgression he didn’t commit.

Hondo walked closer to the bed and rested his hand on Street’s shoulder. “If Deac won’t let me blame myself, I sure as hell ain’t gonna let you try the same. You just focus on getting better.”

Street didn’t stay awake long, the stress of the day and the pain meds a nurse came to give him wearing him out. By the time Molly arrived, he was out again. They all had to leave soon after, the hospital telling them visiting hours were coming to an end.

The team was eerily quiet as they go in Black Betty to carpool back to HQ. Street was going to make it but they were reminded today how fragile it all was. Every day they dare death and one day he was gonna call their bluff. They changed out of their tac gear in silence and headed out the door. As Hondo dialed Nichelle’s number, he had no doubt that the others were doing the same with their loved ones.

“Hondo?” her beautiful voice rang through the phone, “Oh crap. We didn’t have plans I forgot, did we?”

“No,” he chuckled. “But I do want to see you.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked, sensing the forced joviality in his tone.

“Today was… a day. But I’m cooking dinner for my moms and Darryl tonight and I'd really love if you’d join. I need to see that beautiful face.”


	13. Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Whumptober "Adrenaline"; Fictober "I never knew it could be this way."  
A mission doesn't go as planned, and the team finds themselves having to deal with an orphaned child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one feels a bit different than my previous stories, like style-wise. But I'm kinda proud of it. I think it worked out.

A neighbor walking her dog had heard crashing coming from the old, run-down house. It happened a lot, people usually ignored it. But she was new to the neighborhood and didn’t know the unspoken rule. She’d called the police. 

When the officers had arrived, they heard a man inside threatening to kill his wife. The officers knocked and identified themselves. He’d quickly sworn to kill everyone in the house if they didn’t leave immediately. They needed to get in without being noticed. That’s where S.W.A.T. came in.

Black Betty was pulling off the highway on the way to the house, Hondo going over what they knew.

“The house is under the name Phil Cannon. He’s married to a woman named Maggie. She’s made a few domestic abuse calls in the past, but this is the first time an outside party has reported it.”

“And this guy’s not in jail already?” Tan called back from the driver’s seat.

“There’s never been any physical evidence, so the unis mark it down as a domestic disturbance and leave.”

“Sounds about right,” Street commented snidely.

“Hold up,” Deacon chimed in, squinting at the screen he was holding in his hands, “This says they have a son. Max. He’s nine years old.”

Deacon held up his hand, turning the screen around so the others could see. There was photo of the boy, clearly from a school picture day. A gap-toothed smile and scruffy blonde hair. He looked just like his mother, judging by the photo of her that had been included in the report.

“He wasn’t mentioned in the report,” Chris said, “How do we know if he’s in the house?”

“We’re just gonna have to work under the assumption that he is.”

Tan pulled up in front of the house and the team piled out. The officer on scene quickly told them that nothing had changed and the family was still inside.

“Alright, there are two side doors. Chris, you take the one side. Tan, Deac, the two. And Street, you’re with me at the four.” Hondo ordered.

The team broke formation and headed to their positions. They reached their respective points of entry and halted, waiting for the command. Hondo in position, rifle ready, with Street behind him. Deacon and Tan mirroring them on the opposite side of the house while Chris waited by the front door. The shouting could be heard from outside.

“You called the cops on me again!”

“No,” a tearful woman’s voice was crying, “It wasn’t me this time! I swear!”

“Stop lying!” a man’s voice shouted, followed by a crashing sound.

“Tan,” Hondo whispered into the comms.

Tan moved from behind Deacon. He took the sensor off his vest and held it up to the door, “Three heat signatures. They’re all in the same room.”

“Okay, everyone. Get ready. Breach on three.” Hondo commanded. The group could each hear their heartbeats pounding in their ears, every inch of their bodies raring to go. The energy coursing through them waiting for an outlet. “One, two, three.”

All three doors broke down simultaneously and the three groups entered the home. They did so in absolute silence. But at that exact moment, a gunshot echoed through the house. Hondo and Street were closest to the cluttered living room, so they reached the target first. In enough time to see Maggie Cannon’s body drop, and the gun turned toward the child. The pair reacted quickly. Street stepped forward and grabbed Max’s shirt, pulling the kid back to shield him with his body. Hondo fired off a shot before Phil could, hitting him square in the chest twice. The man fell backward, his pistol dropping to the floor. The rest of the team entered. Tan moved toward Maggie’s body, kneeling beside her to feel for a pulse. He looked up at Hondo and shook his head grimly. Deacon did the same with Phil’s body, confirming what they already knew and clarifying for those back at HQ.

“30 David, suspect down.”

Street turned around, kneeling in front of the boy. He looked Max up and down quickly, searching for any visible injuries. He held a hand out, letting it hover over Max’s shoulder before actually touching him. “Are you okay?”

The boy didn’t answer, instead surging forward and clinging tightly to Street. If Max was crying he did so silently, but Street could feel him trembling. He wrapped his arms around Max, pulling him closer into a hug. He brought one of his hands up to the back of the boy’s head.

“It’s alright. Everything’s gonna be alright,” he said softly, “You’re safe now.”

Street looked up at the others as they all exchanged heartbroken looks.

Max was brought to HQ in the squad car with the uniformed officers. He was going to sit in Dr. Wendy’s office until CPS could get a caseworker down there.

The team was in the locker room getting their tac gear off, the air heavy. The mission was what they all considered to be a failure and they were all having trouble shaking it off.

“Come on,” Hondo said as he shut his locker, “I know this was a tough one, but we still got a job to do.”

“We should have been in there sooner,” Street muttered.

“If I had driven a little faster…” Tan said.

Deacon turned from his locker to face the others, “We did everything by the books. We followed protocol. If we hadn’t, more people might have been hurt.”

“I know,” Street said, slamming his locker and leaving the locker room.

Chris watched him go before turning back to Deacon, “There has to be a way we could have been faster. Just because we didn’t make a mistake doesn’t mean we couldn’t have been better.”

“A kid lost his mom today because of us,” Tan agreed.

“No, a kid lost his mom because someone killed her. And that someone wasn’t us,” Hondo clarified, “But we can always do better. I’ll put some movement drills on the books so this doesn’t happen again.”

Chris and Tan nodded solemnly. After they were gone too, Deacon looked up at Hondo out of the corner of his eyes as he shoved his tac vest into his locker.

“You don’t believe your own words.”

Hondo sighed, eyeing the door his team disappeared through. “You do?”

“Nope,” Deacon said, shutting his locker as well.

Hondo huffed a laugh, “Ain’t that a bitch.” He clapped Deacon on the back and left the locker room.

“This isn’t on you,” Luca insisted as he walked down the hall beside Street and Chris, “You’ve gotta know that.”

“Maybe it isn’t but I still feel like I should have done better,” Street said.

“You’re honestly telling me that if you’d been there you wouldn’t be blaming yourself right now?” Chris asked.

“I mean, yeah I probably would,” Luca shrugged, “But that’s the job. Even when we do our best, we can’t save everyone.”

“Tell that to the nine-year-old boy who’s never going to see his mom again,” Street said darkly. “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate that we tried our best.”

Luca exchanged a knowing look with Chris before turning to address Street, “Look, man, if you need to-”  
He was interrupted when Street halted in the middle of the hall, right in front of the open doorway to Dr. Wendy’s office. Luca and Chris stopped too, following his gaze inside. Max Cannon was sitting on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he stared at the floor. He was looking down but he was clearly on edge. Wendy was sitting in the armchair across from him as she filled out some paperwork, providing him with some space while still being a comforting presence.

Street stepped into the office, waving at her when she looked up. She rose from her chair and came to the doorway to greet them.

“Where’s CPS?” Street whispered so Max wouldn’t overhear, “It’s been over three hours.”

Wendy heaved a tired sigh, “Nobody is available right now to come pick him up. They couldn’t even tell me how long they’d be.”

Street glanced again at the terrified kid. He looked back at Wendy as he gestured him, “May I?”

“Go ahead,” Wendy said.

He moved further into the room and stopped at the end of the couch. “Hi, Max.” He waited until the boy looked up before continuing, pressing his palm to his chest. “I’m Jim. Do you remember me?”

Max nodded hesitantly.

“Would it be alright if I sat with you?”

When he received another nod, he took a seat on the couch beside Max, leaving space between them so as not to crowd the kid.

“How’s he doing?” Chris asked in a hushed tone.

Wendy turned her head back from where she’d been watching the interaction to face Chris and Luca again. “He hasn’t said a word. I’ve been trying to get him to tell me if he has other family, so the caseworker will have something to go on. If they have to keep moving him around, it’s just going to keep retraumatizing him. I want to help them find a potential relative who can take him in. To give him a safe place with someone he knows. But, he won’t speak to me.”

“I probably wouldn’t feel much like talking either, if I were him,” Luca said.

Street tried a couple of times to start a conversation, but he was only receiving nods or a small shake of the head. Finally, he gave up, rising from his seat on the couch. He was stopped when Max reached up, grabbing onto the hem of his jack and clinging tightly. Looking back down at the boy, he knew he was being asked to stay. And after everything that had gone down that day, he didn’t have to the heart to turn him down.

“Dr. Wendy, has he eaten anything?” he asked.

“I tried offering him something when he first arrived but he wasn’t hungry.”

Street turned back to Max, “Would you like something to eat?”

Max blinked at him a few times, loosening his grip on Street’s jacket and letting his arm drop back into his lap. Slowly, he nodded.

“Well, my friend, Tan, has some cake in his lunch today. Would you like to come to the kitchen with me? There’s no better cake than cake stolen from your friends.”

Max’s lips curved up in a small, shy smile. Quietly, almost too quiet to hear, he whispered, “Is it chocolate?”

Street grinned in return, nodding his head, “Yeah, I think it is. Do you like chocolate?”

Max nodded again.

“Alright, then let’s go steal some cake.”

Max scooted forward and hopped off the couch. He reached up and grabbed Street’s hand in both his own, letting Street lead him out into the hallway.

“Why didn’t I think of cake?” Wendy said with a wry laugh. She turned and headed for her desk. “I’m going to try calling CPS again, see if I can at least get an estimate when they’re coming for Max.”

“Alright,” Luca said, waving as he and Chris went out the door, “See ya later, Doc.”

In the kitchen, Street had lifted Max so he could sit on the counter in the center of the room. He’d pulled Tan’s lunch from the fridge to get the cake. He figured it was for a good cause and he’d make sure to make it up to Tan later. He was leaning on the counter beside the fridge, nibbling on a protein bar, as Max dug into his snack. When Max finished, he set the plate aside and sat quietly for a minute, kicking his legs back and forth. He didn’t look up from watching his feet when he finally spoke.

“Is my mommy gone?”

Street almost choked on his protein bar. The question was so far out of left field, he hadn’t been prepared for it in the slightest.

“Um…” he thought, trying to pick his words carefully. He figured the straightforward approach was probably best. “Yeah, buddy. She is. I’m sorry.”

Max just nodded, his eyes still glued to his shoes. He’d known already, he’d seen it happen. Street figured he’d probably been working through it himself over the last few hours, dealing with it internally. It broke Street’s heart, how quickly Max accepted his mother was dead. That he would never see her again. Max had been expecting this for a while.

“When can I go home?”

“Home?” Street asked, confused. Max was smart and he was alert, not retreating into his mind to hide. He knew his parents were dead, so why would he think he could go home?

“To my daddy,” he clarified, finally looking up at Street.

It hit him then. Max didn’t know his dad was dead. He hadn’t seen it, Street had shielded him.

“There is… a lot of stuff going on with your dad right now. I can’t really explain all of it. But there’s gonna be this nice lady. She’s gonna come and talk to you and she’ll explain everything.”

Max thought for a second, “But, she’s not going to take me home?”

“No, she’s going to take you to someone else’s home. There’s going to be some nice people there and-”

“What?” Max asked, suddenly looking alarmed. He scooted forward to hop off the counter, and Street rushed forward to help him down so he wouldn’t slip. “I don’t want to. I want to go home.”

Street knelt down in front of Max, resting his hand gently on the kid’s shoulder. “I’m sorry but you can’t.”

Tears sprung to Max’s eyes. He reached up to angrily swipe them away. “What about my daddy? He needs me.”

He’d been hoping to put this conversation off. Save it for the social worker.

“Max, your dad is gone.”

“Gone like Aunt Ann? Or gone like mommy?”

Unsure what kind of ‘gone’ Aunt Ann was, Street softly responded, “Gone like your mom.”

“No!” he cried, smacking Street in the chest. “You’re a liar!”

It didn’t hurt, so he let Max go until he tired out, his angry shouted turning into small sobs. Once he stopped, Street hesitantly reached out. When Max didn’t back away, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Max rested his chin on Street’s shoulder, reaching around and gripping tightly to the back of his jacket.

“I want to go home,” Max said quietly, “I want my daddy.”

“I know,” Street said, trying not to think about how vastly different Max’s reactions had been. He’d learned earlier that Maggie had a history with narcotics. Most likely, most days she was too spaced out to care for her son. Phil would have been the only one to give the boy attention. At that point, it wouldn’t matter if it was good or bad.

“Street.”

He looked up over his shoulder to see Chris standing in the doorway. He gently extricated himself from the child’s grip and rose to his feet.

“The caseworker is here,” she explained. 

A woman in a black suit with a flower button up and a brown briefcase entered the kitchen. Her long black hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her green eyes had laugh lines around them. She looked like a kind person, and she smiled brightly when she spotted Max.

Street nodded, turning back to Max. “That lady I told you about is here. I need you to go with her.”

Max looked uncertainly at the woman then back at Street. “Can you come?”

“I can’t,” Street said, “I know this is scary, but she’s going to take good care of you. She’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“Hi, you must be Max. My name is Katie,” the woman said. “I have some friends who are very excited to meet you. You’re going to be staying with them for a little bit. What do you say we go meet them?”

Max looked nervously to Street, who gave him an encouraging smile. The kid sighed and turned back to the caseworker, nodding his consent. Street reached in his pocket and handed his business card to Katie.

“Would it be possible to keep me updated?”

Katie took it with a smile, pocketing the card. “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Katie took Max’s hand and lead him out of the room. Max looked back over his shoulder one last time, waving goodbye. He looked scared and Street wished more than anything that he could do something to make that look on his face go away. But all he could do was wave back and smile best he was able.

Chris came up beside him, watching Max go. Once he was out of the room, she looked to Street. “He’s going to be fine.”

“Maybe one day,” Street muttered.

They stood together in silence for a moment before Chris said, “Why would he want to go back to that home? Shouldn’t he be glad he’s out of there?”

Street sighed and turned to pick up Max’s discarded plate, setting it in the sink. “It’s all he’s ever known.” He leaned his back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t look at her, but rather the wall just over her shoulder. “The night that my mom… you know, I was terrified. A part of me wanted things to go back to the way they were because at least I knew what to expect. My whole world got turned upside down and I lost everything. And I mean, it didn’t help that I blamed myself.”

“Why would you blame yourself?” Chris asked, moving around the kitchen island to lean against the side adjacent from him.

“I disobeyed my mom. I told them the truth instead of what she’d told me to. And she got taken away from me because of it. I didn’t know if I was ever going to see her again. At the time, I thought I was being punished. No one, not even Buck, thought to tell me that it wasn’t my fault. I guess they assumed I just knew.”

“I know it’s a little late now,” Chris said, “But none of it was your fault.”

Street looked at her, a small smile on his lips. He cleared his throat and glanced at the door the caseworker had led Max through, “When I was his age I thought every family was like mine. The way my mom was, and my dad… I thought we were normal.” He brought one of his hands up to gesture around the room. “I never knew it could be this way.”

“But you figured it out. Max will too. He just needs time.”

“He’s going to have to do it alone,” Street said, shaking his head. “I have to do something.”

“You already did,” Chris said, “You were there for him today. He won’t forget that.”

“No, it’s not enough,” Street said, pushing himself off the counter. “I became a cop because I didn’t want to see any more children go through something like that. I have to help. And I think I have an idea.”

Chris nodded, standing up straight as well. “What can I do?”

It wasn’t a hard search to run. Max had mentioned an ‘Aunt Anna’. Typing Philip Cannon’s name into the computer quickly proved that he was an only child. So that left Maggie. Finding her maiden name was easy, so he typed ‘Margaret Achman’ into the computer with Chris watching over his left shoulder.

That’s when Hondo found them, huddled in the computer room beside the boxing ring.

“I’ve been looking all over for you two. What the hell are you doing?”

He stopped on Street’s right to read their screen.

“Max mentioned having an aunt when he was talking to Street,” Chris explained, “We’re trying to find her.”

“What for?”

“So we can give her info to the caseworker,” Street said.

“There,” Chris said, reaching past Street to point at the screen, “Annabelle Achman. That’s gotta be her.”

“Says here she lives in Utah,” Hondo read.

Street nodded, “That must be what Max meant when he said she was gone. She moved to another state.”

“California CPS would’ve taken forever to contact her, having to cross state lines like that,” Chris said.

“Good thing her number is right here,” Street said, copying her info down in his phone to send to Dr. Wendy. When he was finished and about to pocket his phone once more, the screen lit up with an unknown number. He held the phone to his ear, “This is Street.”

When the caller identified herself as Max’s caseworker, Katie, he set his phone on the desk and put it on speaker.

“What can I do for you? Is everything okay?”

“Unfortunately not. Max is missing.”

“Wait, what?!” Street asked, looking up at the shocked faces of Chris and Hondo.

“I was getting him settled in his emergency placement. He asked to go to the bathroom and he didn’t come back. I was hoping you could keep an eye out for him, in case he tries coming back there.”

“I actually have an idea where he might be trying to go. Can you text me the address of his placement?”

“Thank you,” Katie said, sounding flustered before the dial tone sounded through the speaker.

“Hondo-” he started, turning toward his boss. Ready to beg to go look for Max.

“Go, I’ll get the rest of the team,” Hondo said, already heading in the other direction. The entire team felt like they’d let that kid down today, whether or not that was true, and none of them were going to sit by if there was something they could do to fix that.

Street got to the motor pool and found a car, letting Chris take the driver’s seat. He called Hondo to fill the others in.

“I think Max is going to try going back to his house. We should search the area between there and his foster home.”

“Okay, you two go to his house. We’ll start at the foster home and work our way in,” Hondo said.

Hondo had gotten into a charger with Deac while Tan and Luca took a second one. There was a lot of ground to cover and the more groups looking the better. Twenty minutes into the search, his phone dinged and he looked down at the screen.

“What is it?” Chris asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Wendy heard from the aunt,” he explained, looking back out the car window. “Wait! That’s him!”

Chris’s gaze followed where he pointed and she hit the breaks, pulling to the side of the road. The boy had been trudging down the sidewalk, scuffing his sneakers as he walked, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked up when he heard the car skid.

“Max, wait,” Street said, getting out of the passenger seat once the vehicle came to a halt.

“Jim?” he asked widely, stopping and wiping his cheeks to hide tears.

“What are you doing, buddy?” he asked, keeping his distance to avoid spooking Max. He was well aware that if he made a wrong move the kid would run for it. Chris was too, hovering back by the hood of the car. He heard her on the phone with Hondo, giving the others their location.

“I’m going home,” he answered simply.

“We talked about this, Max. You can’t go home.”

“Why?” Max shouted, “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I know. I know, Max,” Street said calmly, inching closer to him. “But your parents did. Your dad did. They didn’t take care of you and that was wrong. Max, look at me.”

The boy sniffed, bringing his eyes up from his untied shoelaces to Street’s face.

“This isn’t your fault.”

Max’s lower lip trembled, visibly trying to hold himself together. Fighting with himself. Wanting to believe Street but not sure that he could.

“Max, I need you to come back with me,” Street pleaded.

“I can’t. Those people don’t care about me! They think I can’t cause I’m a kid, but I see the way they look at me.”

“I care about you, Max,” Street swore, finally stepping off the grass and onto the pavement, just a few feet away now. “Your aunt cares about you.”

“Aunt Anna?”

Street nodded.

“She’s gone,” Max said, scrunching up his nose.

“No, she isn’t. I just heard on the ride over here. She’s heading to the airport now on the next flight out. She wants you to live with her in Utah.”

Max’s eyes darted back and forth, disbelief crowding his face. Finally, his eyes locked with Street’s and he hesitantly asked, “She does?”

“Yes. She’s going to fight for you, Max. And I will too. But I need you to come with me.”

There was a long tense moment where Street wasn’t sure what Max was going to do. He was trying to portray a welcoming, calm posture but he was poised, ready to run after him if Max decided to bolt. And Max did run, but not away. He ran toward Street, who knelt down to meet him, and crashed into him. He wrapped his arms around Street’s neck, burying his face in his vest. He heard Max sobbing, finally letting everything out that he’d been holding in all day. Owing the kid one more favor, Street held him until he ran out of tears.

They dropped Max off at his foster home, where the caseworker was waiting on the front porch. Her eyes were wet but her makeup hadn’t smudged, indicating she’d been near tears but they hadn’t quite fallen. She rushed down the front walkway when Max got out of the backseat.

“What were you thinking?” she exclaimed. She took a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath and speaking again in a level voice, “Please, don’t do something like that again. You could have been hurt.”

Max looked up at Street, quirking up an eyebrow. The kid was smart. He was good at reading people. Katie had been worried. She cared about him. She chose this job because she cared. Now that he’d been able to vent and calm down a little bit, he was able to see that.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Katie sighed, fixing the lapel on her coat even though it didn’t need fixing. She smiled kindly down at Max. “That’s okay. What do you say we go inside? That was quite a bit of exercise you got in, you must be hungry. Miss Julie made you some lunch.”

Max agreed albeit he seemed nervous about it. Street and Chris were invited inside to join them and they accepted. Slowly, Max relaxed a little bit. Enough to agree to go out to the backyard and play fetch with the family’s German shepherd. Street and Chris said their goodbyes, confident Max was in good hands, and headed out.

“If you want, I’ll check in tomorrow,” Street offered, “See how you’re doing?”

Max smiled, giving him one last hug. Street took that as a yes.

He and Chris headed back to HQ. By the time everything was over, it was time to head home. Hondo and Street were the last ones in the locker room. Hondo shut his locker and swung his backpack over his shoulder. On his way out the door, he passed by Street and patted his teammate on the shoulder.

“That was a good thing you did for that kid today. Buck would be proud.”

Street looked at Hondo and smiled, “He’s done a lot for me. I’d like to think I paid a bit of it back today.”

“And then some,” Hondo said.

“I gotta be honest,” Street said, huffing a laugh, “I felt like I was maybe overstepping my boundaries a little bit today.”

“We treat people like family. That’s how you make real change doing this job. Max will remember today, one way or another. At least now, he can go forward knowing that there are people out there willing to fight for him. That goes a long way.”

“Thanks, boss,” Street said.

Hondo nodded, heading toward the door. “Good night.”

“Night,” Street called, zipping up his backpack. He shut his locker door and was reaching for the strap of his backpack when his phone went off. He pulled it from the back pocket of his jeans to see a text from Katie.

_ The aunt just landed at Burbank airport. We’re setting up a meet tomorrow. _

Street smiled down at his phone, shutting off the screen. He pocketed the device and left the locker room, shutting off the light and plunging the room into the dark.

A few weeks later, Anna got custody and they moved back to Salt Lake City. Street had gotten to visit with Max a few more times, at the child’s request. He’d gotten to know Anna fairly well. She was a good woman and he knew she’d take good care of Max.

Every few weeks she sent him updates on how Max was doing. She’d enrolled him in counseling and it seemed to be helping. He was thriving in school. Making friends. Slowly learning what it was like to be a kid. They were planning a trip to Disneyland for the summer. Street had laughed when he heard Max had asked to see him when they were in LA.

Max was going to be okay. It would take a while, but he’d get there. And he’d have someone there to help him through it. That was all Street had wanted for him.


	14. Trembling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group outing turns into a night of reflection when Street meets someone from his past.  
Day 14: Whumptober 'Trembling'; Fictober 'You could talk about it, you know?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Liiiiiiiive!!!  
Ok so maybe I didn't finish my fictober prompts. BUT! It is now fictober again! There is still hope!

“Hey, so I’ve been thinkin’...”

The team was presently in the locker room, preparing for their day, and they didn’t visually react to Luca’s attempted segue. They all knew what Luca meant when he started a conversation like that. He wanted to ask them something. Usually, something that involved them investing time in some sort of group activity. Out of the corner of his eye, Street saw Luca glance around expectantly, undaunted by the initial lack of response.

“We haven’t all been able to just hang in a bit and Tan was telling me about this bar he’s been wanting to try. Why don’t we all go after work?”

“Ya know, I am actually free tonight,” Deacon answered, stepping back from his locker to look at Luca, “I could let Annie know I’ll be home late.”

“I am so in!” Tan said excitedly, high-fiving Luca, “I hear they have the best chicken wings in town!”

“You know I’m down,” Street agreed.

Luca looked expectantly to Hondo and Chris. The latter smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Sure, I don’t have anything better to do.”

Hondo thought for a minute, before finally responding. “I could get my Momma to watch Darryl. She’s been complaining she never gets to see him anyway.”

“Score!” Luca exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air, “This is gonna be sick!”

“What is this  _ amazing _ bar anyway?” Street asked.

“Rambling Roadhouse,” Tan said excitedly, “I heard from a friend they just finished some renovations or something”

He heard the name and his face fell, and he instantly started thinking of ways he could get out of going tonight. ‘ _ You know what? Actually… I forgot I have some stuff I gotta do.’ _ That wouldn’t fly. It would be suspicious as all get out and they’d know something was up.

“You really wanna go  _ there _ ? I heard that place sucks,” he tried instead, “I know a better bar five minutes from the precinct.”

“Maybe so,” Tan said, “But! They’re having a grand reopening sale on drinks.”

“I’m sold,” Chris said, “I wanna go to Tan’s bar.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and it was set, they’d be going to the Roadhouse. Maybe he would have to fake sick after all, or at least find some other excuse.

He never did think of anything and when the end of shift finally came he resigned himself to the fact that he was in this now. Fortunately, the time had also allowed him to calm his initial reaction and assure himself that he was overreacting. It probably had a different owner by now and, with the renovations, it probably wouldn’t even look the same.

Upon entering the establishment, Street was disappointed to find that the only thing significantly different was the bar itself. What had been a cheap, wooden bar and a mere two shelves behind it now appeared to be nice mahogany, covered in a clear coat of lacquer to make it shine. New shelves had been built in to match, tripling in amount with a large mirror in the center. The attempt to gussy up the place fell flat for Street, who recognized the same chairs with the torn green cushions and the chipped round tables. He even swore it was the same pool table.

All of the tables were too small to seat a group of six and the seats at the bar were empty, so the team made their way there. They took the corner where the bar rounded to meet the wall, Street choosing the seat on the end between the wall and Luca. It was warm inside, so he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the stool. The others filled the rest of the seats, sharing their favorite anecdotes from the day. Street was only half-listening, choosing instead to take in the scenery. When he saw movement and looked up to see the bartender approaching, he cursed quietly under his breath.

“What’s the matter?” Luca asked, turning from the group to look at Street.

Before he could answer, the bartender reached them. He was a portly man, in his late-fifties with thinning grey hair and a 5 o’clock shadow. He flung a rag he’d been using to wipe down the bar over his shoulder and flashed the group a shining grin.

“I’m Rick, I’m the owner and I’ll be your server tonight. How’s the evening been treating you, folks?”

“Better now that we’re closer to the beer,” Luca joked, “How about yourself?”

“Pretty good, thanks for asking,” Rick answered, “Say, do I know you?”

Street looked up at Rick and smiled politely, “I don’t think so.”

Rick nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. Before he could say anything more, someone at the other end of the bar called to him. He grabbed two bowls from under the bar and set up on top. “I’ll be right back to take your orders. Enjoy some complimentary peanuts.”

Luca dug into the peanuts, muttering something about free peanuts being the best peanuts. But Street noticed the others were looking at him.

“That’s so strange,” Chris commented, leaning forward to see him past Luca, “Why does he think he knows you?”

Street shrugged noncommittally, busying himself shelling peanuts. A sign above the bar indicated to toss the shells on the floor, so he slid them off the counter with his palm. Rick came back a moment later, resting his left forearm on the counter and leaning into it.

“I know I’m getting old, but not old enough that I’d ever forget a face. I swear I’ve seen you before.”

“It’s been a minute,” Street admitted, forcing on a smile. He gestured to himself. “Jim Street.”

“Street…” Rick responded slowly, looking upward as he tried to recall. When he got it, he pushed himself off the counter excitedly. “Eddie’s boy!”

In his peripheral vision, he saw everyone’s head turn toward him.

“Mmhmm.”

“Well, shoot! It’s been more than a minute! It’s been damn near twenty years!” he laughed, slapping his knee. “Man, you got big!”

“Two decades will do that,” Street chuckled. He didn’t know if it was obvious to the others, but to his ears, it sounded forced.

“You knew Street as a kid?” Deacon asked from the other end of the group.

“Oh yeah! His old man used to bring him in here all the time!” Rick said cheerfully, turning back to Street. “That’s how I recognized you. You look just like him.”

That remark hit him hard and all of sudden he wasn’t up to the charade anymore. He ducked his chin to his shoulder, looking at the wall. He’d been fortunate in that the only person who’d ever told him that was his mother and, to her credit, she’d been high and hadn’t known who he was. But he’d realized then that few things hurt him more. It, of course, didn’t help that he had the same thought every time he looked in the mirror.

Hondo must have realized he needed saving because the other man leaned forward on the bar and called for Rick’s attention.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but we’re all really thirsty.” 

He flashed that grin he had that never failed to charm anyone in a five-foot radius and Rick hopped right to it.

“Right! Of course, sorry. Ya know, what? Shots of scotch for everyone. On the house.”

Rick grabbed six shot glasses from underneath the counter, setting one out in front of everyone. He stepped away for a second to grab a bottle from the middle shelf. He came back and, starting with the end Deacon was on, filled the glasses one by one.

“I heard about what happened to him. It’s a shame. Eddie was a good man.”

Street knew from experience that he was a good liar, but he refrained from responding to that particular comment. He knew that Rick was a nice guy and meant well, but he was only so good an actor.

When Rick came around to Street’s glass, he held his hand over the rim. Street smiled politely at the older man. “No thank you, I don’t like scotch.”

Rick paused with the bottle halfway tilted before snorting a short laugh. He slid the glass out from under Street’s hand and filled it. “Free liquor is free liquor, kid.” Then he slid the glass back in front of Street.

As soon as the scent reached his nose, a wave of nausea washed over him. He quickly brought his hand up to cover his nose.

The bartender walked away and everyone downed their shots. Luca was especially pleased with his.

“This is damn good scotch!”

“Here, have mine,” Street said, sliding the glass over to his friend as he hopped off the barstool. “I need some air.”

He went out the backdoor, into the alley behind the building. Once he was safely outside, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath of the cool night air. Pacing back and forth, he pressed his hands over his face and forced out his breath through them before bringing them up and raking them through his hair. When he brought his hands back down in front of him, he noticed that they were shaking.

There was a stack of empty pallets against the wall. He realized that in fact, his entire body was trembling, so he made his way to them and let himself drop heavily onto them. His elbows pressed into his knees as he let himself lean forward, his chin resting on his clenched fists. He didn’t let himself relax, on the edge of his seat in case the nausea became too much.

The outside air wasn’t helping, he swore he could still smell it. And the voice in the back of his head wouldn’t go away.  _ You’re a man now _ . He lifted his head slightly and tilted it forward till his forehead hit his fists. He screwed his eyes shut, willing the voice to go away.

“Street?”

The tentative call caused him to turn his head, though he knew who it was without looking.

“I’m fine.”

Chris took that as her invitation to approach, sitting down beside him on the pallets. She looked at him carefully for a second before draping his jacket over his shoulders.

“I thought you might be cold.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, sitting up to put his arms through the sleeves. He was warmer now, though it didn’t quite stop the trembling. So, he couldn’t blame it on the cold then.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, side by side, watching their breath mist in the cold. Sirens sounded in the distance. It sounded to him like police and he wondered briefly where they were going.

“If Rick is bothering you-”  
“It’s not Rick,” he said, shaking his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head drop down to his chest. “The smell of scotch makes me nauseous.”

“Does it have something to do with your dad bringing you here as a kid?”

“No. It wasn’t so bad. I mean, it was crowded and loud, but I usually just sat in the back quietly for a few hours.”

She nodded in understanding, following his gaze to the graffiti on the wall across the alley.

“Why did he bring you here?”

Street shrugged, “When my mom had to work the night shifts, he had to watch me. But that meant he’d miss a night of getting loaded. Which is obviously very important. After he left me home alone once, my mom found out and got mad. So, he’d bring me along. Rick was his buddy, so he let it slide.”

“Did Rick know…”  
“No,” Street shook his head, clenching his fists together in front of him, “Rick’s a good guy. I mean, letting kids in his bar is a bit questionable…”

“You mean a bit illegal?” she asked. He didn’t look but he felt her smiling.

“A little bit,” he laughed, but it was short-lived and the conversation died out.

After another minute, he felt Chris turn to look at him. “You could talk about it, you know?”

He didn’t answer and they lapsed back into silence a little while longer. He appreciated her willingness to be a silent presence. That she could tell what he needed was someone to sit with him and that was okay, but the offer still stood when he was ready.

“When I was eight...,” he said after a while, his voice low. “My dad gave me my first shot. I hated it. I threw it up. But it made him angry. Said I was wasting his good stuff.”

Street shifted forward, wringing his hands. He kept looking forward at the wall, but he felt Chris’s attention squarely on him.

“It happened a few times. Every now and then he’d get wasted and pour me a shot. I tried to keep it down so he wouldn’t… No matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t do it.” He turned his head to look down at Chris. “And I don’t know, for some reason just the smell of the stuff turns my stomach.”

Chris looked sad, managing to hold his gaze for a mere second before her eyes drifted down to his shoulder. She leaned toward him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him toward her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

He shrugged, clinging tight to her in response. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “It was a long time ago.”

“We don’t have to go back in,” she said simply, releasing him and leaning back to look up at his face. “We’ll go somewhere. Just you and me. If you’re feeling better, there’s a great udon place just down the street. We’ll go get some food and meet them back here after.”

“What’s that?”

“What? Udon?” she asked, her eyes going wide when he nodded. “It’s a Japanese noodle. You’ve never had udon?”

He hadn’t even heard of the stuff, so he just shook his head.

“That settles that. We’re going.” She rose from her seat, holding out a hand to help him up.

The pair made their way back inside, catching the tail end of a grilling session between the rest of the team and Rick.

“Just curious,” Deacon said, “You regularly allowed one of your patrons to bring their child into your establishment?”

“Well, Eddie was a buddy of mine. He couldn’t afford a babysitter so I told him to bring the kid along.”

“Right, yeah,” Tan said snidely, “Couldn’t afford a babysitter but he could afford a bar tab just fine.”

Rick didn’t seem to understand the questioning, looking more confused than anything.

“Down boys,” Chris said, coming up behind the four men sitting at the bar, “Street’s not feeling well. We’re gonna head out.”

“We’re gonna get uno,” Street explained, smirking when she shot him a glare.

“Udon,” she corrected.

“I love udon!” Luca exclaimed.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s go,” Hondo said, turning his stool around and standing up. He said goodnight to Rick, putting a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, and waved for Chris to get going.

Everyone followed suit, starting to follow Chris out the door.

“You guys don’t have to come,” Street said, “If you wanna hang here that’s cool.”

“I’ve had my fun,” Tan shrugged.

“This is a  _ team _ night,” Luca said, “We get udon as a  _ team _ !”

“Luca is incapable of thinking for himself,” Chris said, holding the door for everyone to pass through, “He only functions as part of a unit.”

Everyone, including Luca, laughed at the jab and he moved to defend himself. “You mock. But I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Street clapped his roommate on the shoulder as the group made their way down the sidewalk together. “Me neither, buddy.”


	15. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Fictober 'That's what I'm talking about!'; Whumptober 'Scars'  
A fall on the job prompts a conversation.

It was the middle of winter and the team was responding to a call. An average every day call for them. Unis had responded first but had been pinned down so they’d had to call for a S.W.A.T. team. They responded in record time, a point of pride for Luca and his driving skills. The two suspects had fled into the abandoned factory as soon as they saw Black Betty pull into the parking lot, and the team chased in after them, diving into two groups. Hondo took Street and Chris, and Deacon took Luca and Tan. They entered from opposite sides of the building, fortunate that the factory only had two entrances on the ground level. It would have been three, but with power having been cut to the building long ago, the enormous cargo door was inoperable.

Just as the blueprints had indicated, the factor had a loft-like structure. To the left of the front entrance, and a set of stairs leading up to a balcony that wrapped around the room, a couple of offices built into the back wall. Deacon’s team was able to apprehend suspect number one, while Hondos’ moved up the stairs to search for two.

The building was in disarray. It was falling apart after months of quiet and disrepair. The railing was no longer structurally sound. Three offices, three police officers. Hondo’s team broke to check each one. Street chose unlucky number three and was rushed by the suspect the second he opened the door. The two of them slammed into the rusty railing and the metal broke as they tumbled off the balcony.

It wasn’t an entire story’s drop and Street got lucky, landing on an old pile of broken-down cardboard boxes. It couldn’t have been a soft landing, and he landed on his left side, but it took enough of the impact that all that happened was the air getting knocked out of his lungs. Their suspect wasn’t so lucky, managing to knock himself out when he hit the ground. It made it really easy for Luca to run across the factory floor and cuff him. Luca checked to make sure he was still breathing as Tan helped Street to his feet. Street caught his breath, grimacing as he moved his left shoulder. He brought his right hand up to his shoulder, gripping it tightly.

“You alright, man?” Tan asked. “Can you move it?”

Street nodded and answered through clenched teeth, “Yeah. I’m good.”

Hondo and Chris made it back down the stairs and caught up with the group as Deacon radioed in that the coast was clear.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Luca exclaimed, leaping back to his feet from where he’d been crouching beside their arrestee. “Nice work, Street. You got him!”

“I think he got me,” Street laughed breathlessly, “He just happened to take himself out in the process.”

“Trust me, kid. Just take the win,” Deacon joked, clapping Street on the back, causing the latter to gasp in pain.

The unis came and took the suspects into custody and the S.W.A.T. team cleared the scene. It was nearing the end of the day, so as they finished the after-incident paperwork they were cleared to go home. It couldn’t come soon enough for Street whose entire body was aching from that fall, though the real pain was in his shoulder. It was throbbing so badly that it was a struggle to lift his arm to get his shirt off.

“Here,” he heard Luca offer before his shirt was being pulled over his head.

“Thanks,” Street mumbled, taking the article of clothing back and shoving it in his backpack.

“You sure you’re alright?” Hondo asked from down the row.

“Yeah, just aggravated an old injury. That’s all.”

“Something to do with those scars on your shoulders?” Deacon asked.

The scars in question were three lines of raised tissue, each approximately two inches long. Two were on the front of his shoulder and one of the back.

“You’ve never mentioned them,” Chris pointed out.

“That’s because it’s not interesting,” Street said, hurriedly bunching up his civilian shirt so he could slide it over his head one-handed, hiding the injury from view. “I got in a fight in high school.”

“A knife fight?” Luca asked incredulously.

“Nope, just a fight,” Street said, carefully sliding his arms into his flannel shirt. “Those are from the surgery. The guy tore my rotator cuff in three places.”

“Musta been a big kid,” Hondo observed, “He’d have to be to get the leverage to do damage like that.”

“He was big but that’s cause he wasn’t a kid,” Street said. He grabbed his backpack off the bench, slinging over his right shoulder. “It was my baseball coach.”

Everyone paused what they were doing and stopped to look at him.

“Why were you in a fight with your baseball coach?” Chris asked.

Street shrugged lopsidedly, using only his right shoulder to complete the motion. “It’s a long story. I’d rather not get into it. I’m gonna head home, ice my shoulder. See you guys tomorrow.”

The locker room door shut behind Street and the remaining officers exchanged looks.

“Why do I get the feeling it’s a story we probably don’t want to hear?” Tan asked.

“A baseball coach beating on one of his players can’t be good no matter how you spin it,” Hondo said. “There’s no use getting into it.”

The others agreed and, one by one, they finished up shut their lockers. If the nagging feeling in the back of their mind that something wasn’t quite right didn’t go away, nobody said a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this one is short and unresolved. That's because I cheated! It's not a one-shot. The next chapter is going to be part two. So stay tuned for that!


End file.
